Dances
by Aoicakes
Summary: The world is saved, but life marches on...or starts to wind down, in Raven's case.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is an ongoing birthday/Christmas present for Resmiranda, who got me into the game and then Rita/Raven, possibly against my will. (The results aren't back yet.) Rated for language and some future luvvin's, none of which will be underage 'cause, y'know, ew. Enjoy!

**I.**

Rita liked to wake up slowly, easily, when she had the chance; her time with Brave Vesperia had seen quick action necessary almost every morning – if only to get to the nearest bathroom before Estelle could hog the tub – so the months following their travels had been crammed with precious, precious solitude. Oh, they all got back together every so often, and she enjoyed their company more than any form of torture could make her admit—but damn, was it ever great to wake up at your own pace! You just couldn't beat it.

What you _could _beat: cracking your eye open to see a kid making a face at you, with an old jerk leaning down on your other side, hands cupped around his big stupid mouth: "I said_, _it sure would be a shame if she didn't wake up right OW!"

Karol hopped straight back as Raven rubbed his jaw. Rita sat up, blinking sleep away, and flexed her hand. "Yer aim's good as ever," Raven said mournfully.

"Your mouth's as bad as ever," she retorted. "What're you doing here?"

"G-good morning, Rita," Karol stammered, flinching as she raised a hand to rub her eyes. He edged back again. "It sure is a nice day out, huh?"

She fixed him with a withering stare. "One? It's always a nice day here, even when it rains." Capua Torim's salty breeze fanned them from the open window, which had been barred shut when she fell asleep last night. Rita locked her fingers together and pushed them out in a joint-cracking stretch. "Two, I have a couple of housebreaking morons in my space, which makes this particular morning pretty crappy already." Another eye rub and a yawn did the trick. Fully awake, Rita swiveled to face Karol, scowling; the boy was scooting back toward Raven, and both of them were_...looking _at her_._ "And three, what's so funny, huh? If you tell me I was snoring again, I'll—"

"Nothin'!" Raven elbowed Karol, then passed a hand over his stubbled chin, pulling his maniacal half-grin into an expression of solemnity bordering on constipation. "See? Nothin'. Right, Karol?" The older man elbowed Karol again, harder. "Nothin'?"

"What?" Karol snorted, coughed, and mimicked Raven's expression. "Right."

Rita patted her face experimentally, then checked her fingers: clean. "Whatever. Look, was there something you idiots wanted, besides a couple of beatings? 'Cause I can help you with that."

"Ahhh, yes." Raven stood to his full height and bowed elegantly. "We're here ta extend you an invitation, dearest lady, t—"

"There's gonna be a party in Zaphias!" Karol bounced to his feet, brimming with excitement. "There's gonna be a _huge _party for Estelle's 20th birthday! You remember how we were all in Aurnion a little while back, and I said Yuri and Flynn should have their own Coliseum because they won't stop fighting, and everyone agreed?"

"No," Rita said flatly.

"Oh." Karol picked at his ear, then rallied: "Well, I did, and Flynn told some of the masons, and they told Fortune's Market, and now the Union and the Knights are gonna fight in Zaphias!"

"What's that all got to do with Estelle?" Rita pushed herself to her feet. Thank every nonexistent deity, she always slept fully clothed. "And I thought our goal was to prevent everyone from killing each other. Didn't you say Harry and Ioder were getting along now?"

"This particular fight's a real old-fashioned idea," Raven said, running his finger down a pile of books. He picked out one volume, opened it, and smiled at the note Estelle had written on the inside cover. "Back when the Knights were bigger an' had more Imperial family ta serve, they'd go out every year in front of everyone and whack each other till the Emperor saw who was best fit fer the royal guard. No killin', or at least it lost ya points. Now Estelle's turnin' the big two oh, Flynn thought it might be neat ta try it again with bigger participation—"

"And you're invited!" Karol finished triumphantly.

"And yer invited," Raven agreed, setting the book carefully atop its pile, "and there'll be other stuff goin' on before that, so we came ta get ya and some others before the party started."

"Geez. It's still a week away." Rita tapped one foot, looking at the new calendar she was working on for the Magistrate of Capua Nor. Ever since she got back from their last trip, she had been watching the date with absent-minded interest. Estelle's 19th birthday had been too soon after the Adephagos to spare much energy for celebration. But now...

Her bangs were getting too long. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and tucked it under her goggles. "Let me guess. You're leaving right this second and I need to hurry up and pack?"

"That's our genius!" Raven cocked one finger at her appreciatively. "Everyone's been waitin' this whole time."

Rita scowled at him. Why did that seem to amuse him so much? "Then I'll need ten minutes to get clean and grab a few things. Try not to break anything till I come out, okay?"

There was a moment of horribly expressive silence. Rita, turning to open the nearest door, glanced back to see them size up her little bathroom – with its mounted, full-length mirror – look at each other, and break into a headlong scramble to be first out of the house.

Suspicion bloomed afresh in the mage's mind. She wheeled around, jerked the mirror toward her, and let loose a shriek that rattled her neighbors' windows. "YOU LITTLE BASTARDS! GET BACK HERE!"

_Thump thump thump _went Rita, down the stairs and out the door in three huge bounds, bare feet insulated against the blistering pavement by sheer rage.

Ba'ul was visible above the docks, of course, and her targets had just disappeared up the _Fiertia_'s gangplank. She put on a burst of speed along the pier, the prospect of vengeance lightening her head like a draught of fine wine. Rita hated wine, but vengeance tasted awesome_._

"Good morning, Rita," Judith said with more-than-usually maddening composure. Leaning into the tiny cabin's shade, the Krityan tilted her head and put a hand to her chin. "May I ask why you have glasses and whiskers painted on your face?"

"In indelible black ink! _Dried _indelible black ink!" Rita marched past her, other people on board melting aside in the graffitied face of her wrath. Behind them, Karol and Raven had collapsed against the railing, doubled up in fits of helpless, hooting laughter. As Rita bore down on them, Karol tried to gasp something out, then made a dive for safety around her.

"Uh-uh!" Rita's hand shot out and seized him by the collar, swinging the boy around to dangle over the rail. "You have two seconds to tell me why I shouldn't stuff you with rocks and throw you overboard!"

"I-it was Raven's idea!" Karol choked. He was about her height now, and definitely heavier, but physical laws tended to turn irrelevant around Rita. "We tried...to wake you for, like, five minutes...! And I was all, 'Just...pour water on her,' but noo-oo, Raven found some ink—"

"In the top drawer of my green dresser, right?" The boy nodded. He was promptly rewarded with a tighter grip in both her hands. "That stuff cost more than your corpse is gonna be worth!" Rita pivoted and hurled him into Raven, knocking the older man flat on his back. "And where are _you _going, you snooping creep?!"

"How were we s'posed ta know you'd stay asleep while it dried?" Raven protested, sitting up against the side of the ship. "I even cleaned the brush an' put it away, and ya still wouldn't wake up!" He gave her his sunniest grin. "Looked at from a certain perspective, Rita darlin', this is actually all yer HELP! JUDIIIITH—"

"You'll have plenty of time for that later, Rita," Judith said over the sounds of carnage at her feet. "We still have to pick up a delegation of mages from Halure, and I promised Estelle and Yuri a ride back to Zaphias."

"They're at Halure?" Rita paused, foot drawn back in midair. Karol and Raven exchanged glances, nodded imperceptibly, and zipped away in opposite directions, clutching various body parts. She let them go: she knew where they lived. "Okay, I'll go get my stuff. Can you give me a few minutes?"

"And some makeup," Judith replied. Muted snickering came from behind the cabin; Rita whipped around and threw a tongue of flame around the corner, just close enough to set Raven whimpering again.

She didn't decline the offer, though.

* * *

When Ba'ul landed a discreet distance from the perimeter protecting the City of Blossoms in lieu of its barrier, people lined the street to watch Estelle, Yuri and Repede stroll down to the Entelexeia, just ahead of several well-dressed mages.

"Hello, everyone! Oh, Rita, I was hoping you'd be here!" Estelle caught her hands, nearly hopping in place with joy. "I wanted to...be sure... Rita, are you wearing face powder?"

Rita gently disengaged her hands, opened her mouth, then spun around and punched Raven square in the face. She turned back and nodded at Estelle. "Yes. Yes, I am."

"Dammit..." Raven heaved a mournful sigh, shrugging with both hands up. "It figures. I get all the beatin' and Karol just gets threats, even though it was his idea! 'Yuri said it'd be funny, we should give her a goatee,' and I go an' ignore that last part, and what do I get?"

Estelle maintained her patented Polite Bewilderment stare as Yuri sauntered up to join them. "Hey, guys. Did I hear my name?" He peered at Rita. "And is Rita wearing pancake makeup? And more importantly, why? Getting bored with the ol' scientific lifestyle?"

The explanation that followed was sufficiently explicit that the boys' collective structural integrity was not the only one at risk: to save the _Fiertia _and their own schedule, Estelle had to take Rita's arm and escort her into the cabin, promising to get the ink off somehow before they reached Zaphias.

"Man," Yuri said ruefully, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes as Ba'ul prepared to lift off. "Why'd you guys do that to Rita, of all people? You knew she'd find out instantly and come kill you."

"Well, it's like this—" Massaging his neck, Raven cast a hopeful look at Judith. She crossed her arms. He sighed again, plopping onto the deck. "Rita's like a beehive, ya know?"

"No," they chorused.

Raven touched his jaw tenderly. "A beehive's got some great stuff in it ya can't get anywhere else—valuable, right? But ya can't sit around all day starin' at it, hopin' it'll just give it up. Even if ya don't pay it any attention, or ya make the most _innocent _remark, it stings you anyway. So ya say, 'The hell with this, I'm gonna draw on the greatest mage alive' and get ta masterpiecin', see? It was gonna hurt you again sooner or later anyway."

They stared at him in unblinking silence. "I think a perfectly good analogy got lost and died somewhere in there," said Judith.

"Yeah, I just thought drawing on her would be funny," said Karol.

"Prexactly!" Raven leapt to his feet, arms flung wide open, and just as suddenly doubled up with a mighty groan. "Now, if you'll excuse me, ol' Raven's got some battle scars ta heal up. Wonder if Estelle's done yet?"

He hobbled toward the cabin, whose door burst open to reveal Rita, cheeks scrubbed and healed bright pink. She jerked her hands at him, making him fling his arms over his head...and hmphed, walking past him with her head held high.

"The more things change..." Yuri moved aside to make room for Estelle on the boxes that were their favorite seats. "So Estelle, you really don't mind people using you as an excuse to beat the crap out of each other? I know I'm looking forward to it—"

"And me," Judith said cheerfully.

"And Flynn, for sure," Yuri finished with a nod. "But the way I understand it, those old tournaments got pretty brutal. Do you think it's really okay to get lifelong enemies all together to fight for your royal birthday edification?"

"Hmm. Well..." The princess folded her hands and gazed out at the landscape. Ba'ul was lifting off with careful consideration of his less seasoned passengers; at least one of the mages tended to get airsick, which engendered very little goodwill amongst the people at Deidon Hold caught in the crossfire.

Estelle leaned back against the cabin. "Ioder and I retain the right to disqualify those who fail to stop fighting when ordered, or who kill their opponents. With that rule in place, I think it'll be healthy for the Knights and the guilds to show off a little in front of each other. Flynn even wants security to include some trustworthy guild members, so there's no favoritism. And most of the prizes will be money, not rank in the empire, as they used to be."

"People are starting to feel really safe now that the sky's clear and we're getting along without our old blastia," Karol agreed, kicking his heels together. "It's a good idea to let everyone blow off some steam while you supervise, huh?"

"Speakin' of old blastia..." A hand touched Rita's shoulder. She reflexively grabbed it and twisted hard, nearly yanking Raven off his feet. He yelped, righted himself, and held up the offending limb, features taut. "Fer crap's sake, wouldja stop hurting me and listen a second?!"

"Oh. Okay." Rita let go and moved aside for Estelle to come forward. "You were saying, blastia...?"

But Raven sidestepped the princess, smiling apologetically, then jerked his head at Rita. "Can we just talk a little? I promise I won't so much as look atcha too hard."

"...Fine." Rita adjusted her goggles. "We're almost to Zaphias, so make it quick."

She led the way across the little deck; mages and well-dressed strangers alike gave her the widest possible berth. "Look at that," Raven said quietly. "At my worst, I was never near as popular as you, Rita darlin'." One hand to his chest, he turned and eased himself under the curve of the bow's railing.

"It's a gift," she snapped. "What's more..." But Rita stopped dead at his expression. A mix of pain and weariness was settling over Raven's face like a greying curtain: he looked fifty, not thirty-something. There was no theatricality in his sudden grimace, and she felt alien twinges at the thought of his most recent beating. Was this...guilt?

Maybe so. He was breathing _way _too hard.

"It's acting up again." Rita wasn't asking. He lifted his eyes as her hands balled into fists. "You old moron! That was just a temporary fix, you know." Cursing him and her own lack of self-control – but mostly him – Rita dropped to her knees and yanked his coat back. She sucked in her breath, feeling the blood drain from her face. "How long has it been...leaking?"

"Only a few days." Raven managed a shrug, doing his best not to watch her watching the slow, seeping red-black stain on his thin shirt. "Don't worry, I didn't let ya hit it just now."

"I'm not worried, you jackass! I just can't believe...you _know _this thing is a lot frailer now that the core's running on Undine's power!" Her mind raced through his options: limited, some downright gruesome, and none very good in the long run. "I can cauterize the edges for you, but that's even more temporary." She rocked back on her heels. "Why won't you let Estelle try healing it? It won't replace your heart, but—"

"Estelle's too strong. Remember what the doc in Aurnion said?" He closed one eye. "With the trickle Undine put through the blastia shell, I'm up 'n runnin'. Estelle'd be more like a flood—her artes'd overload this ol' thing and kill me dead as dirt." Raven gestured helplessly. "Even if I went ta another doctor who'd keep his mouth shut, or if Estelle held back healin' it...well, they heal flesh and blood, not chunks of metal."

"Yeah? Nothing cures a case of the stupids, either. Open up." She prodded his top button. Raven obeyed silently, unfastening the shirt so she could peel it back. The lack of protest or sexual harassment alarmed Rita even further, spurring her to a quick decision: "Hold still, this'll hurt a lot." Her finger zig-zagged, hissing a line of pure heat down the metal's bleeding edge.

Raven grunted, but held perfectly still. Rita sighed, summoned a stream of cool air to help the pain, and tried to ignore the smell of burning flesh. "I don't know how much longer that mechanism'll hold out. 'A few days' my ass, old man. That metal's been bled on for weeks, by the looks of it. You should've come see me months ago—why didn't you say anything the last time we all got together?"

"That hippogriff nest by Yumanju?" He wiped the sweat from his forehead with one sleeve. "The water helped a lot with the pain. Besides, what would ya say if I came up in the baths and asked fer some quality one-on-one time?"

"I'd hit you, then notice the bleeding and think of something to fix it. Stupid." Rita peered at the blastia's sluggish, swirling surface, nose almost pressed to his chest. "Besides untreated, constant bleeding, what else is wrong with you? Physically?"

Raven grimaced again, eyes drifting shut. "Get tired too easy. Short of breath, light-headed, heart torn out and replaced with a rock. What's yer diagnosis?"

"Besides stupidity?" She crossed her arms and looked at him narrowly. "Well, lungs breathe, but it's the heart that gets oxygenated blood back to the brain. Yours isn't doing its job, so you can't work very hard without getting sick. Yet another reason not to let your heart go get broken—messed up," she corrected herself.

"Right, right. Short on breath, dizzy, and it just plain feels ready ta give out sometimes, more'n it used to." Raven fixed her with one blue eye. "Sound like an old ticker ta you?"

Rita growled under her breath, turning on her heel to get up and pace the deck in angry bursts. "You really are stupid. Do you have a death wish? Sick people with any brains to speak of do _not _paint mages' faces and then run around like it's nothing! And they've been known to say to themselves, 'Oh! Gee! Look—constant bleeding from _my heart_! Maybe I should get some help with that!' But not you!" She rounded on him, hands on hips. "If you're so eager to piss away all my hard work, old man, just hop off Ba'ul and get it over with!"

"No can do, o gentle healer," drawled Raven. He bobbed a stiff, painful little half-bow. "I've got guild obligations. 'Sides, I doubt Estelle wants another trauma courtesy of Cap'n Schwann an' his trusty stupidity. If I _was_ tryin' ta check out early, we wouldn't be havin' this delightful conversation."

"I told you, I don't give a crap about your guild problems!" Rita wanted to hit him again, but contented herself with kicking a barrel. "I give a crap about problems that make themselves worse just as I'm away from all the books and tools that might help fix them, not to mention space where everyone can't see your...stuff!" They were surrounded by a quiet bubble of the other passengers' apprehension, one Rita enforced with a quick glare in all directions; she resolved to keep her voice down, though.

Raven pulled his coat around him, trying not to shiver. "So whaddya prescribe? Bed rest and lotsa fluids?"

"I prescribe you get a life. And a working brain." Rita threw her hands into the air. "I can't do anything else here. Ask Estelle to heal the fleshy parts and...I don't know, get lots of sleep till I have a chance to really look at it again. That should be easy enough."

"Aye aye." Raven bowed again. When he came up, Rita was relieved to see him pulling a long face. "I hope you appreciate the level of trust yer gettin' here. This ain't much fun fer me, either."

"I hope _you _appreciate still being alive," she countered, and turned in time to miss his expression. "Stay away from me for a couple of weeks, and I might forgive you. Just try not to kill yourself in the meantime."

He didn't answer. Rita chewed the problem over as she made her way back to the others, and was relieved to hear him get up and follow moments later; she wasn't in the mood to play therapist to a self-pitying old fart. Talking with everyone would make him forget about it for a little while and buy her some time to think.

"You still alive, old man?" Yuri asked as they rejoined their friends.

"Somehow," Raven said soulfully. He struck a pose, angling himself toward Judith. "Our darlin' Rita just reminded me that every hour she lets me live is a little gift in itself. Ain't that poetic?"

Rita raised a hand to smite him, but Karol interrupted with a shout of "Ah HA!" and a mad dig through his bag for...something, deep enough into the huge sack that he fell half in and remained there to keep shoveling stuff aside. "Thanks for reminding me, Raven!" came from the muffling depths.

A round of looks made its way through the group. Rita lowered her hand. "Did I miss something?"

"I think...ah, I got it!" Karol burst out of the bag with a little green-wrapped bundle on triumphant display. "So it's Estelle's birthday soon, right? I mean, that's why we're all here!"

Another pause. "Yeah, that'd be it, Captain," Yuri said dubiously. "Is this fact relevant to your big silk booger?"

"It's not a booger. It's a present!" Karol thrust it at Estelle, who shied away. "Here! Happy birthday, Estelle!"

"Um..." After a moment, the princess took it and turned it over, at a loss. "Thank you?"

"Unwrap it," Yuri said out the corner of his mouth.

"Oh! Right." Flustered, Estelle found a tucked-in end and pulled it free. They all leaned in to watch as she unwound the scarf, letting it fall away from a wooden whistle: it was a songbird of some dainty sort, perched atop a grassy mound – complete with tiny flowers – beak open at one end, tail feathers forming the mouthpiece. "Oh, my!"

"I found it in Heliord when we were there last time," Karol said proudly. "I thought you'd like the scarf, but the whistle's not a bad way to stuff it, huh?"

"It's so pretty!" Estelle turned it this way and that, then set her lips and blew a surprisingly loud trill of piping notes. She laughed, flinging her arms around Karol's shoulders. "Thank you so much! I love it!"

"Ah, well..." Karol was bright red, but as pleased as Estelle. "I just thought it might be something you didn't already have. I mean, you can buy anything you need, right?"

"But not this." Estelle held it up again, eyes widening as she turned it over. "And my name is on the bottom!"

"Damn," Raven said respectfully. "Now _that _is a girl's birthday present. Keep this up, kid, and yer wife'll never have a mean word for ya." He leaned over and nudged Yuri in the ribs. "But I bet yer present's even better, right, Yuri?"

Yuri was staring at the whistle in something like shock. "I never would've thought of that," he muttered.

"Yep! Somethin' even better." Raven folded his arms behind his head.

"I wonder what kind of wood that is," Rita mused, watching the little bird pass from Estelle's to Judith's to Raven's hands. She accepted it from him and examined the tiny script on the base. "Yep, 'Estellise,' right there. You must've paid out the nose for this, kid. Good job."

"Aw, not really," Karol mumbled.

Judith raised a hand to her temple, then turned and called, "Ready to land, everyone." The capitol loomed pleasantly below the ship, activity already visible throughout the streets.

"Wow, everyone's celebrating," Rita observed. She pointed over the rail. "That pink thing over there, is that in the lower quarter?" No answer. "...Yuri? Hello?" She gave his hair a sharp tug.

He jumped. "Ow! What?"

"What's wrong with you?" she snapped. "I just asked if the lower quarter's having a party, too. Geez."

"Yeah, Hanks insisted, everyone there knows Estelle." Yuri turned back and frowned distractedly at the cabin. Estelle was showing everyone her whistle, and politely trying to deter people from putting their lips all over it.

Rita followed his gaze and snorted. "Don't even tell me—"

"Shut up."

She wasn't entirely evil, so Rita lowered her voice a little: "You forgot to get something for her birthday, and now Karol totally upstaged you! You loser!"

"Shut up, all right?" Yuri whirled away from the railing, scowling fiercely. "I've been around her so much lately, I haven't had time to go get anything."

"Oh re-eally?" Raven drew the word out to positively obscene lengths. "Do tell."

"Not you, too!" Yuri glared at the older man. "What did you get her?"

"Me? I'll favor the Lady Estellise with the most elegantest dance of her life at the ball t'morrow night." Raven winked at him.

"That's not a present!" Yuri folded his arms. "Look, it's not like she's keeping this running total of what everyone gets her. She's nicer than that, right? She doesn't need to—"

"I made her a set of reading lights on three different necklaces," Rita said loftily.

"What?!" Yuri gaped at her. "You...you—"

"Do ya even know how ta dance, Yuri?" Raven leaned in. "Ladies don't hafta be that great at it, but gentlemen are expected ta not look stupid. You _are_ goin' to the ball, right?"

Yuri had the look of a man who's just woken up to find his head sewn to his ass. "What ball?"

"The one Raven just mentioned," Judith said behind him. "The tournament is just another excuse for a lot of nobles to get together, after all, so you know there'll be a big, fancy party somewhere." She smiled, moving to cut off his escape from the other two. "This one is tomorrow night. I hope you're not going to try to get out of it."

The young man stared at her, then looked around, visibly desperate. "And you're okay with this, Rita?"

"Me? Why would _I _ not be okay with dancing?" Rita hadn't given it much thought, having just heard of it. But who was she to waste a chance to give Yuri crap? "It's okay, though, really. Estelle will probably understand if you're too scared of all the nobles to go." She shrugged. "We'll probably be asked to lead the dance. Don't worry, I'm sure Flynn can take your place."

From halfway across the deck, Estelle swayed with the force of their gentle landing, wondering if her ears had failed her. She reclaimed her whistle and made her way to where Yuri was standing in a nearly visible black cloud; Rita was smirking, Raven grinning like a madman, and even Judith looked pleased with herself. Estelle coughed gently. "Are you all right, Yuri?"

"Grrrngh," he responded.

Repede came up to sniff at his hand, but backed away violently. He was the first off the ship, cutting off the head mage; luckily, the man was too sick to his stomach to protest much.

"All righty, shall we?" Raven bowed them all onto the gangplank, chatting gaily as they headed into Zaphias. It didn't occur to Rita till much later that she had forgotten his blastia entirely.


	2. Chapter 2

**II.**

Their plan had been to take Estelle to the palace and then visit the lower quarter that evening to check on Yuri's friends. Someone along the way, though, had evidently decided that Brave Vesperia staying anywhere outside the castle would be an affront to someone's dignity. This was not a terrible thing, Rita reflected from atop her mountainous, red satin four-poster guest bed; it was just a little high-handed to declare that the Lady Estellise's special guests would be treated with every honor and courtesy, please come this way, here's your room, Lady Mordio, dinner is in half an hour, please find fresh garments in your wardrobe, the ladies' bath is just down this hall, not to say you especially need it, of course, no offense intended, good day—and disappear.

But then, that was what nobility was, really: hands everywhere, either pushing you down or patting you on the head and giving you things in exchange for...other things. Luckily, in her case, she'd always had brains to spare for them, and had kept herself fed and clothed through research she would've wanted to do anyway. She could hardly complain about that.

Her bedroom led out to a little balcony that extended so high over the rest of the city that it made her head spin; she hurried back inside and nearly ran straight into Judith. "Mine has one, too," the Krityan said. "My bed is green, though. Want to switch?"

"Nah." Rita wandered through her sitting room and another archway that led into Judith's similarly spacious quarters. The balcony overlooked a little interior courtyard, though, and she stepped back to say, "On second thought, yeah, I'll trade y—"

Schwann stood in the open doorway.

He was as startled as she was; he recovered first, bowing low from the waist. "I'm sorry to come in without knocking. I was told Judith was here...?"

"Right here," Judith said from the other room. She cocked her head at the Captain, who had somehow made it back here before the rest of them and was now bathed, groomed, and wearing a shiny new uniform. "That was quick. Where's everyone else?"

Rita's hackles went up a little further as he bowed again. "Lady Estellise would like to see you both in her chamber."

"And _you _both?" Rita tapped her foot. "Are you staying like this the entire time? That's gonna be really awkward, you know."

Schwann's mouth twitched. "Raven needs to stay undercover for certain people's benefit. He won't be here for the tournament."

"Ugh, you weirdo!" Rita marched out, giving his foot a discreet stamp as she passed him.

Schwann merely sighed, stepped back, and gestured for Judith to precede him out. She didn't move. "Are you really going to keep this up for over a week?" she asked quietly.

"I'm afraid so." He sighed again, catching himself in the act of rubbing his chest. "I would appreciate your nonhostility for the duration. ...In fact, I _really_ would appreciate it."

"Mmm." Judith followed Rita out into the hallway.

The Knight led the way to Estelle's little room, one she had apparently grown up in and refused to vacate for a bigger chamber now that she was world-famous and second in line for the throne to boot. Rita could appreciate the sentimentality, but Estelle was also quite shrewd in this respect: the room was so small by the palace's standards that only three or four imperial hangers-on could squeeze in at a time.

Schwann left them at the door without another word; it was the work of a well-placed glare for Rita to get the attending maid out, and then they could sit together in privacy.

Partly out of impatience and partly out of consideration for Yuri's forgetfulness, Rita gave Estelle her necklaces then and not at the informal dinner planned for that night. The princess loved them, of course, and vowed never to wear them in public; Rita's wrath was short-lived when Estelle hastened to explain that then everyone would want one, and their poor genius mage would be stuck making them for the rest of her life.

* * *

Meanwhile, staff around the palace were being puzzled by the sight of Yuri sidling up to his lean, scarred, pipe-smoking (?) dog – which everyone knew by now not to try shooing outside – and saying to it earnestly, "Repede, I really need a favor."

The dog gave him a courteous measure of attention. Feeling stupid, Yuri cleared his throat. "Estelle's a good, uh, princess. She could get anything she really wanted, almost, with all her money. But she's never gotten to know _you_ that well, and after all—hey!" Repede had abruptly stood and padded away. Yuri was beside himself with indignation. "Would you just listen to me first? It's not like you're an Entelexeia, her touch won't kill you! All you have to do is sit still for a minute—"

"And he's officially insane," Flynn said from the other end of the hall, watching his friend berate and cajole the dog all the way out to the courtyard.

"I understand the Lady Estellise received an excellent gift from Master Karol this morning," Ioder replied. "It may be the case that not all of the guild has followed its leader's example."

"Is that it?" Flynn waited till they were out of the servants' hearing, then found a convenient pillar and leaned against it, shoulders shaking. "He's so _bad _at presents!"

"I'm glad you're amused," the soon-to-be-Emperor said over his Commandant's smothered giggling. "Now, if we could resume our discussion, I'm not certain the vacant Captaincy should necessarily be broached at the tourney...."

* * *

Matters no less serious came up after dinner, an event made awkward by Estelle's insistence on showing off Rita's gifts – they blinded everyone when she fiddled with the wrong end of one chain and turned it on full-blast, sending Karol to bed early with a headache – as well as Schwann's conspicuous absence.

"I can't believe his men have kept it quiet so well," Judith said as they sat around after the meal, each sipping or frowning at or playing with his or her wineglass. "Estelle's book never mentioned the spying he did for Alexei, or...well, what _he _did to _him_. It looks like no one else knew."

"Captain Schwann?" Estelle twisted her glass on its ornate base. "He's probably helping with the tournament preparations now."

"He'd better not be," Rita grumbled. "You saw how bad his old wound's gotten."

The princess blinked at her. "I did?"

Rita's head jerked up. "You mean he didn't come see you? After I burned the edges shut?" Estelle shook her head, wide-eyed. Rita didn't know whether to be surprised or not, and settled for being really angry. "Dammit!" Her glass' stem snapped under her fingers. "I hope he fights and gets hit right there again! That _idiot_!"

"Maybe," Yuri said tactfully. "I'm sure he knows what he's doing...basically. In the meantime, let's not break things, okay?" He blocked Estelle's attempt to pick up the broken glass and collected the biggest pieces himself. "Now, what kind of stuff's gonna happen tomorrow night? I heard something about dancing."

"Your gloves got most of it..." Estelle looked up from Rita's hand, refocusing on Yuri. "Dance?" Her mouth fell open a little. "You mean, you'll attend the ball? Willingly? But, it'll have lots of nobles in it, and...and dancing!"

"Geez, Estelle. I've got the same number of legs as most nobles, don't I?" Yuri shrugged, but his body language already bespoke the exasperated, half-conscious affection Estelle usually brought out in him. Rita glanced at Judith, saw that she saw, too, and mouthed, _Too easy._ Judith nodded complacently.

"Well...great!" Estelle clapped her hands once. "I hear they're renewing traditional dances instead of the minuet and quadrille, too. It should be so much fun!"

Yuri blinked. "Quad...min?"

"She's talking about dances everyone does all at once, or ones that take forever to learn, so only nobles have the time to waste on them," Rita informed him. She picked up another glass and sniffed at it in case there was something less winey in it. "What traditions are we doing? War dances?"

Estelle flushed a little. "The waltz."

Rita choked – on principle; there was nothing in her mouth – and Judith nodded. "I've heard of that one. Interesting choice. It's much easier to learn than most formal dances, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and it makes you get grabby with someone you don't know! Or even someone you do!" Rita folded her arms. "I'm willing to get dressed up and mince around for a couple of hours, but no one said anything about grabby dances!"

"It's not that bad," Estelle protested. "Here, let me show you." She started to take Yuri's arm, flushed darker, and turned to Judith instead. "I'll lead, so you put your right hand on my shoulder, and your left hand goes up here..."

Even Repede, curled up on the floor, watched in growing interest as Estelle lightly clasped Judith's hand, then the other girl's waist. "We stay like this the whole time. Now, just follow what I do. It's pretty slow, the beat goes one-two-three throughout..."

Yuri was torn between fascination and slow-burning horror. "You mean..._this _is what nobles get up to in their free time? And then they act like the lower quarter's existence somehow gets them dirty?"

"Grabby dance," Rita said darkly.

"It's not a grabby dance! It's really lovely when everyone does it correctly," Estelle protested over Judith's shoulder. The Krityan was taking to the slow, gliding steps quite naturally, and seemed unperturbed at being handled. "Here, Rita, you should give it a try."

"I'm going to try to get some sleep," the mage said firmly, scooting her chair out.

Estelle broke away from Judith in distress. "So you're not going to the dance, Rita?"

"I never said that!" Rita half pushed, half kicked the chair under the table. "I'll figure the stupid steps out, but anyone who gets grabby with me is gonna lose a hand."

"Even if we all have to go out there first, like you said?" Yuri's eyes widened with feigned innocence. "What, don't you like the idea, Rita? Should we get Flynn to take your place?"

"Shut up!" Rita socked him in the arm, ignoring his grin as she headed for the door. "I'm going to—augh! How long have you been here?!" She glared at Schwann, who was watching them all from the doorway.

"I had to get someone to help Karol to bed," Schwann said apologetically, and bowed his head, so that they could see the smooth fall of hair framing his jaw. After months of Raven's scraggly ponytail, it was really, really weird.

"Estelle, heal Captain Schtubborn where he needs it, okay?" Rita stalked past him without making any contact. "Good _night_."

Contrary to Rita's expectations, Schwann did not say or do anything stupid, even when she was out of earshot; he took care to make the smallest possible talk with the other three – and a friendly word for Repede – before he retired himself. Being back here and reverting to a Captain was exhausting...as was ignoring his raw, sweat-stung burn, though anything that kept his mind off the little half-ticks of his makeshift heart was a good thing right now.

Trust Rita's big mouth to take even that away from him, though Estelle did manage to fix up the flesh without ruining the rest of the mechanism. He'd worry about it tomorrow, he promised himself; now he just had to follow Dr. Mordio's orders and try to get some sleep. If only he had a shred of her willpower, he thought wearily, his body would never dare to mess with him again. If only...

* * *

No one got to sleep in the next morning, from Ioder all the way down to the commonest child. If the capitol had been busy yesterday, it was now crazed with activity, people streaming past the perimeters in unprecedented numbers and variety. Volunteers in the lower quarter set up watches with rotating schedules, then began clearing huge squares for games and dancing, while the women who'd been up since the previous night kept working in the kitchens to make enough food for the huge crowds.

"And this isn't even the biggest day of the party?" Yuri asked no one in particular from his balcony. He could see streamers being pulled up all over the city, moving over rails and wells and other handy edifices like multicolored worms. "This is ridiculous."

"Oh, they're all having fun, Master Lowell," a passing maidservant reproved him cheerfully. "While they're at it, you can have a bit of breakfast." She set a loaded tray on his bedside table. "Would you like your hair cut before, or after?"

Yuri stretched, scratching his ribs. "Breakfast sounds great, thanks. I'd like to..." He froze. "Wait. What?"

They didn't eat breakfast together, thanks to a multi-pronged attack by the other castle servants: it started on Yuri's unsuitable hair, shifted to Rita's own overly long bangs and unkempt nails, spread to Karol's general adolescent-male hygiene, and culminated in a stalemate with three large, unsmiling women who refused to believe that Judith's antennae were not hair, not decorative, and not going to come off, and that if they were going to insist, there was going to be a problem!

Estelle seemed to enjoy the fuss, with the exception of the woman who, by midday, was reduced to jogging down the hall after Yuri with a pair of scissors at the ready. "Oh, no," the princess almost wailed. "Terri! Terri, you leave him alone this instant! If I find out you've removed _one hair _without his express invitation, I'll...I'll be angry!"

"But he's got so much to spare, Lady Estellise," the servant said sweetly, snipping in midair as Yuri ducked behind the princess.

"It's mine, you psycho! I'm not a Knight, so get away from me with those!" Yuri flinched at another snippity-snip.

"Terri!" Estelle jabbed a finger in a random direction. "NOW!"

The servant obeyed with great reluctance. Yuri took hold of Estelle's shoulders and, steering her between himself and harm's way as the woman circled near them, heaved a sigh of relief. "That was way too close."

Estelle was staring at his hands, which he also noticed. "Oh." He let go. "Sorry 'bout that. Thanks for rescuing me." With a step back, Yuri looked around furtively. "You mind showing me where the bathhouse is? I got directions from someone before, but then the crazy lady started after me and now I can't find it again."

"O-okay." The princess brushed her hair behind her ears. "If you don't mind, um, I can...well..."

"What is it?" Yuri followed her down the hall. She was walking a little too fast, and though nothing looked wrong that he could detect, her face was flushed. "Are you okay?"

"If you don't mind, I can fix your hair for you—so no one at the ball will say anything, except maybe Flynn, and probably Rita," she said at a rush. "I think it'd look good a certain way, though it's stylish to have it a little shorter, but of course if you don't want any help, it wouldn't be appropriate—"

"That'd be great," Yuri said over her, and shook his head, smiling ruefully. "The crazy lady must be contagious. Look, don't you have more important stuff to be worrying about for tonight than the state of one guild member's coiffure?"

"Well, I suppose, but..." Estelle brightened as they rounded a corner. "Ah, here we are."

"Thanks, Estelle. I'll see you later." He gave her a jaunty little pseudo-salute. "Smile! It's a party, right? We'll figure out some way to squeeze some fun out of it."

The princess wasn't so sure of that. In fact, she couldn't stop fretting till some time later in her private bath; reveling in the chance for solitude before she had to start getting ready, Estelle dismissed her attendants, dried and dressed herself, and wandered down the halls to Judith's room.

Her friends – already bathed, hair still damp – were seated amidst huge mounds of fabric across the bed's ample surface. "What have you picked out so far?" Estelle said brightly. "I see you've already found most of what might fit. The seamstress should be here soon, too, if you need her."

The mage and the Krityan stared at her, then exchanged significant looks. Warning bells tinkled gently in the back of Estelle's mind. "What? Is something the matter?"

"Yuri's already setting an example for the rest of the world," Rita announced, arms and legs crossed.

"Haven't you heard, Estelle?" Judith asked her, plowing through the red and purple gowns for something long enough to fit her properly. One had evidently been designed for ladies slight of chest; it was tossed over her shoulder onto the floor. Another's sleeves were slitted and puffed like an angry aquatic creature: it nearly hit the balcony railing. "Yuri and Flynn decided tomorrow was too soon and started fighting in the bathhouse."

Estelle didn't see what was particularly harmful about that, and let her face speak for her.

"So then they started a...towel fight." Judith smiled. "Outside the baths."

Estelle's eyebrows rose.

Rita heaved an impatient sigh. "A towel fight only works when you are not wearing the towels, Estelle."

...It didn't even register for a long, long moment. Estelle blinked. "What?"

Judith wriggled her hand into a sleeve experimentally. "It was only for a second, but they were caught with their...towels down. The last any of the servants heard, Ioder had to come down and order them to stop blaming each other and go get ready."

"They _what_?" Shocked, Estelle unwittingly imagined the Commandant horseplaying with Yuri in a state of...abbreviated dress? The picture was so suddenly exact that she pressed her hands to her face, half expecting to feel steam rising off it. "What did they think they were doing?!"

"Playing, mostly," Rita grumbled, and shoveled aside a heap of pink dresses. "Judith, where's that black thing with the pearls on the collar?"

Estelle slammed her hands onto the bed, a dramatic gesture whose force was literally softened by the chest-high, bouncy piles. "Flynn has to be ready to greet visitors before anyone else! He should've been dressed half an hour ago, not...not...!"

"Quit worrying, Estelle. These things always fall into place just fine. It's no use getting mad about it." Rita was in her shift, like Judith, though Estelle had changed back into a set of her travelwear till her formal gown was ready. The mage rose to her knees to hold a golden yellow and a sea-green gown against each shoulder. "You two know this stuff better. Which one will let me get away with the least makeup? I hate having all that stuff smeared on my face."

"I like the green—look, no one but a couple of maids actually saw them, Estelle," Judith said quickly, as the princess was visibly near tears. "...And a couple of Knights. And Ioder. My point is, the story will get around, but no one will really care unless you go around denying it and making a big deal about it. Isn't that how these things work?"

"Yes..." Estelle plucked at a couple of her older dresses – most of which were Rita's size – and straightened, hands clenched. "I'm going to go see Yuri. I'll be back here before you get dressed."

Though neither said anything else on the subject, Rita and Judith were not surprised that Estelle failed to reappear when they each decided on their gowns; nor did she come to help direct the miniature army of servants who showed up for the sole purpose of picking out rings or bracelets or shoes or lip color _just right_ for one's dress—people who had to take real jobs somewhere whenever nobles weren't playing dressup, Rita hoped. Estelle probably had half again as many attending her.

Except for the heel-pinching shoes, though, Rita had to admit she wasn't too upset at all the silk-and-gold hassle, or not as much as she would've thought; their reputations preceded them, especially hers, so that all she had to do to deter the pushier women was "accidentally" let a little flame slip from her fingertips here and there.

Otherwise, this was an entirely new experience, and the novelty of so much attention was starting to make its way toward her head. In fact, Rita fancied she looked pretty damn good as she stepped out of her room in the fading daylight, allowing a small squad of knights to approach her, bow, and turn in unison to escort her to the grand ballroom. She just might get used to this!

* * *

Half an hour later, Rita slammed her punch cup onto the nearest table and snarled into another mage's face, "And I _told _you electricity's not going to be a viable wide-scale energy solution till we're done investigating the risks of maintaining a grid large enough to power a whole town! I know you can't think for yourself, but you can at least listen once in a while!"

...Or she might get collared by a bunch of idiots she'd dealt with in Halure one time too many, and look around in vain for her friends.

Judith had been announced atop the grand staircase first, resplendent in a velvet, slightly low-cut wine-red gown, silver chains and hairpins the only jewelry she'd wear. Rita was willing to be upstaged, considering the fact that, frankly, every male in the room whose manliness superceded his brain had made a mad dash to be the first at the foot of the staircase.

Even now, an hour later, a dense clot of masculinity was trailing poor Judith around like a fart cloud. As far as Rita could hear, the Krityan was not talking to anyone so much as being treated to a nonstop barrage of pleasantries about the weather and general approval of her appearance. Some of them were starting to repeat themselves, and Judith's patience was visibly running out.

Trusting the maids' commendation of her clear skin, Rita had donned the golden yellow silk, which was a little bare in the shoulders, but high-waisted, elegant, and not too showy—she was Estelle's guest, not some braindead noble girl desperate for attention. She'd also drawn the line at a gold-and-ruby collar like her old blastia, one matching bracelet, and just a touch of color on her lips. She hated the heeled old-gold slippers and the itchy things they'd insisted go on her legs, but every time she glimpsed herself in the panelled full-length mirrors reflecting the glittering assembly, Rita was glad she hadn't gotten around to cutting her hair yet: a few moments with a curling iron, a glass clasp shaped like a red lily, and a ridiculously simple arrangement thereof had produced a hairstyle so pretty that she was almost afraid to look at it after a while. What if she never could get it like this again?

...But, why would she want to? Hair longer than the nape of her neck just got in the way when she was working or fighting, and that was all she'd ever wanted to do. This was a new breed of thought for the young mage, and she couldn't reject it out of hand.

There was no doubt, though, that she was more comfortable than some of the guild members and lesser nobility mingling on the edges of the crowd. No one was dancing yet, as Estelle hadn't shown up, so conversation and weak nectarine punch were the order of the evening thus far.

Rita got a few compliments from the braver or more courteous ball-goers she passed in her search for a familiar, unsurrounded face, but her reputation had preceded her again: be they nobles or scrubbed-up Fortune's Market officials – ahh, there was Kaufman, and _damn, _that was an impressive lack of blue dress – people were clearly wary of her.

This was to be expected, and something of a relief, when she looked over at Judith's ever-growing mob of admirers. Still, one could only go so long without talking to anyone at an event this size, and it was bizarrely reassuring to be accosted by her associates from Halure.

She had moved to Capua Torim partly to study its impressive storm patterns and ways to harness their energy, and partly to avoid the tedious hours of interaction that came of being accepted by the other mages. Tonight, they didn't even acknowledge her dress or anything; the leader of the richly robed cluster just launched into poorly thought-out criticism of her most recent work.

Of course, she had to fire back, and now she was on her second huge glass of punch and not even remotely enjoying herself.

"You're still wrong, gentlemen. We'll discuss this later, all right?" Ignoring their protests, Rita drained her cup, put it aside, and declined another from the circling waitstaff as she made her way back toward the stairs. It would be just great to get tipsy and embarrass herself in front of everyone tonight; she had practiced the waltz steps with Judith this morning, so the dance itself shouldn't pose too much of a challenge.

She looked over at the little orchestra, which was striking a few notes to quiet everyone for Harry's announcement and decorous descent down the—there was Karol behind him!

Even with that livid scar on the bridge of his nose, Harry was well-dressed, somber, and fairly dignified; on the other hand, Karol looked downright silly, Rita thought, with his wild hair slicked down and a silver-and-white suit...yuck, that was a green ascot! She'd seen Repede wearing more fashionable things around his neck! "Too bad the dog couldn't come," she muttered.

But several of the older ladies in the crowd were ready to surround the boy, coo at him and ask doting old-lady questions, so he wasn't doing too badly, Rita decided as another figure appeared at the top of the stairs. She'd rag him about his grey harem later, provided Raven didn't do so first.

That thought gave her serious pause. She started to cast around the room, but the crowd was too tall, on average, and its attention all focused upward, forcing her to give up.

The crowd's muted hum rippled, then rose in excitement at the majordomo's boom: "Master Yuri Lowell!"

It was all Rita could do not to laugh and point in amazement as the man himself walked down to the ballroom floor, scowling as if every step brought him closer to the gates of Hell. Even frowny-faced, Yuri did not look bad; he looked quite alarmingly like a handsome young man near Rita's age, she tried not to notice, and not much like a Yuri. Yuris didn't go around in new black pseudo-uniforms with hair pulled back and—_ribbons _in little braids! Two of them, green and white! So that was what had kept Estelle away from the dressing rooms all afternoon! Had he been forced to sit still and not remove them as apology for his idiotic behavior with Flynn? Rita laughed aloud, unaware that a tall figure near the edge of the crowd had stopped short to watch her.

Perhaps it was out of consideration for Yuri – upon whom half the floor converged, primarily the female half – or the organizers were running behind a schedule of which Rita wasn't aware; barely two minutes after the heads of Brave Vesperia waded into the fray at the base of the stairs, a fanfare rang out from every corner of the room, commanding absolute silence.

The lights dipped. Two figures approached the landing, and Ioder himself came out in front of them to a round of swelling applause and less well-bred cheering behind the nobles.

"Friends, nobles, honored guests, all. I bid you welcome to our city," the prince said in precise, ringing tones. He'd always seemed terribly young to Rita, but it was youth steeped in the down-and-dirtiest parts of ruling the empire; he'd also superintended more social unity and scientific progress in a year or two than the world had seen for centuries, so she was willing to give him some credit. Besides, he was a great speaker now that his voice was changing.

"We have come together to celebrate our Lady Estellise—"

Another round of cheering; Rita approved.

"—who has expended her talents tirelessly in pursuit of a better life for all she meets, no matter their age, rank, or position. With the aid of the guild Brave Vesperia—"

More cheering. Rita found herself quietly acknowledged with smiles, murmurs, and even light taps on the shoulder from people around her, and decided not to mind.

"—our Princess defeated the Adephagos, a threat to Terca Lumireis itself, our very world! But she did not consider herself finished, and took up the task of ongoing peace and prosperity even as she recorded the tales of her journey for future generations." He lifted a hand. "Ladies, gentlemen, guildsmen, and Knights, may I present our gallant Commandant, Flynn Scifo—"

The noise was deafening. Somehow Ioder raised his voice to finish: "And the Lady Estellise!"

Flynn emerged into the light, decked out in his fullest regalia, only the colors altered from Alexei's fatal turn in the position. Estelle came forward on his arm, then took another step and swept a smooth half-curtsy to the crowd below, whose response doubled in volume.

Rita found herself glancing around again, curious, and caught Yuri staring up with an utterly unreadable expression. The mage was disappointed; Estelle had put her hair up behind a emerald-studded circlet, applied almost nothing to her face, and then chosen a gown in thin white and black that so sharply contrasted her usual pink-and-white dreck that Rita approved wholeheartedly. If Yuri did, it sure didn't show. Then again, with Yuri, who knew?

Estelle straightened, elegant but endearing as she beamed down at the crowd. "Thank you, all, from the bottom of my heart—"

"And its considerable depths," Flynn said in a mock aside, prompting bursts of laughter.

Estelle made a prim little face at him. "Really, Commandant! Thank you all for coming, though there are no cash purses to be won tonight." She smiled at the few guild members crass enough to express disappointment from the back wall. "I would like to open this evening with the help of my dearest friends—you know who you are, all of you. I hereby dedicate this night to Brave Vesperia, and to continued goodwill between the great powers of this world. Together, we need not find a common enemy before all can walk side by side, and work as one in all things." She turned to Flynn, made a full bow, and started down the stairs.

Everything happened quickly then. The crowd began chattering; space opened for Rita to pass through; before she could really contemplate dancing in front of all of the most influential people alive, a cool, hard touch on her bare shoulder scared the crap out of her.

She whirled around to see Schwann bowing, and oddly, she mostly saw the people around him – them – murmuring to each other in wonder as he said, "In Master Raven's absence, may I have this dance?"

Maybe it was the punch. But the only intelligible, situationally appropriate word she could come up with was "Yes," and so he stood straight – was Raven this tall up close? – and took her hand to set it in the crook of his elbow.

As leather and metal dug into her fingers, Rita noted dimly that Judith had seized Yuri's arm and rather cheerfully directed him to the cleared floor; she was now letting Schwann escort her across the floor, though he was matching her pace and the mail wasn't pinching anymore. She would always remember that long, strange moment afterward whenever she smelled armor.

At the foot of the stairs, Estelle had given Yuri only one searching look before she turned, smiling broadly, and extended her hand to Karol. "If you would honor me with the first dance, sir...?"

Karol very nearly let loose with "_Would_ I!" The potential disaster of it was so palpable that Rita came fully alert under the weight—but he swallowed, hard, at the last moment, and instead muttered, "It would be my pleasure, Lady...Estelle."

Everyone chuckled, but not in the mean-spirited way Rita had feared. Estelle took up Karol's hand in her left, letting the right rest on his upper arm, the boy holding her waist toward the back. They were almost the same height now, Rita told herself, so it looked all right, and Yuri and Judith would still look good together if you put both of them in potato sacks. But—

"Now." Schwann said it so quietly that it took a moment to be sure he'd spoken. Nevertheless, she heard every word as he turned to face her and bowed again, lips not visible to their audience. "You can make a scene and humiliate Estelle, or you can tolerate a few minutes of dance." He lifted his eyes. "Which is it?"

Feeling every gaze in the room squarely on her – the moment would become an awkward pause in just another second – Rita nodded as regally as she could and held up her left hand. Schwann took it lightly, careful of her bare fingers, and waited for her to decide where on his arm to put her other hand – why was he so damn tall? – before he settled at her waist.

He smelled like...knights. He looked like one, too, except with Raven's eyes. ...Sort of. Exactly five hairs were left on his chin, conclusive and concrete evidence that this was way, _way _too close. Rita's face was stiff with heat—but the music was about to start, their collective pride was on the line, why did she ever take these people to the Shaikos Ruins instead of calling the guards, damn damn _damn_—

The first downbeat, and Schwann moved forward. Rita forced herself to exhale and mirror his step back, then the next one, a shortly swinging stride toward her. She tried to peek at their feet.

"Don't look. You'll trip," the Captain advised her in the same undertone. But his hands were courteously light as he directed her turns, his mouth hovering on the edge of a smile. So Rita let herself slip into a mage's unthinking calm, where she could anticipate his movements without tension, remembering her brief lesson this morning. A few hesitations, a slight misstep, another two beats, and...

"You've got it," Schwann said with all the symptoms of delight. He tipped his head back and regarded her thoughtfully. "You look lovely tonight. The fire lily suits you."

She nearly trod on his feet, which should have led to her own slippers getting squashed. Luckily, he caught her and stepped them back into rhythm on the next beat. "I'm sorry. I'll let you dance. You're doing extremely well for your first time."

"It's not too hard." It wasn't, really. The song was pretty, now that she was listening, and the swaying rhythm negated the worse effects of constant turning.

After a moment's consideration, Rita stopped trying to ignore their points of contact and glanced around instead. Yuri and Judith were moving a little less fluidly than herself and Schwann, but improvised well in the meantime; Estelle looked an expert, and as Rita twisted to watch, she thought Karol seemed nearly as good. "Is there a dancing guild?" she wondered aloud. "I guess he was probably in it...till they threw him out."

Schwann chuckled. "How does one get thrown out of a dancing guild?"

"I don't know. Cowardice?" It was lame, but the air between them thawed a bit, just the same. Rita relaxed further, unaware that she was smiling till their steps took them around to face the mirrors.

She blinked at her reflection in astonishment: she looked like...well, she looked like a _girl_, and all that girldom usually implies. And Schwann looked like a gentleman enjoying the chance to help a girl through her first waltz, not the dead-eyed, backstabbing bastard that his name had always brought to mind.

Raven had become tolerable, even amusing, in small doses, and she'd have to fix his blastia for good sometime in the near future; Schwann was...

...watching her again. "I hope we'll have another dance later," he said.

"Hm?" Rita felt him slowing, and indeed, the music was already drawing to a stately end. He released her, stepped back, and bowed, and she hastily mimicked Estelle's curtsy as applause erupted on every side.

The room was still swaying gently as Schwann took her hand back up, brought it almost to his lips – she froze – and murmured, "Behave yourself, please."

A brief squeeze, he dropped her hand, and suddenly they were surrounded by a crush of bodies and voices. Through it Karol emerged, waving his hands importantly at someone behind her. "I know how this works, we gotta finish up first before we go around with anyone else," the boy said loudly. "You gentlemen can dance with Rita later. Yuri's got her next."

"May I have the fourth?" a rail-thin older man asked.

"And the fifth?" someone else said eagerly over her shoulder.

"Uh..." She looked around in vain: Schwann had vanished. Why was her brain not working? She shook herself all over; this was no time to be rude or stupid, not till someone earned it. "I can't say I'll be up to much more—"

"Ask after the next one! Wow," Karol said as he tugged her away from the little group. "You were really terrific. You're gonna be asked a lot more if you keep dancing like you did with Schwann. He really was as good as he said, huh?"

"It wasn't as horrible as I expected," Rita conceded, and frowned as Karol eased his grip onto her waist. "Watch the grabbiness."

"All right, all right." The boy sighed, taking her hand as if it was about to explode. "See if I ever try to help you out again."

Rita opened her mouth to ask him when she'd ever needed his help against a bunch of old guys, but forgot as the music started and Yuri swept past her vision. "Hey, he's dancing with Estelle."

"She's wonderful!" Karol grinned. "She never missed a beat, not once. I coulda stepped all over her, and she'd still make it look okay." He paused for another moment, sizing Rita up till she twisted her mouth at him. Luckily, he could cringe and dance at the same time. "Sorry! It's just—you and Schwann really surprised everyone. Estelle was afraid you'd try to kill him or something, and then you never missed a step."

"Well, I didn't, and yes I did. Shows how much you know." She saw Schwann leading Judith. The Captain gave Rita a nod as their eyes met. Her face was suddenly stiff again. "So I have to dance with Yuri after this. Can we leave once that's done, or it is rude to stop before midnight? It's not like anyone here has to work in the morning."

"They're not opening the tournament till afternoon," Karol agreed. To his surprise, Rita was getting red again for no apparent reason...but it would probably be more than his life was worth to ask about it. He shrugged. "You can sit out a couple of dances if you want, but it'd be kinda rude to leave early unless you got sick or something."

"Damn." Karol was growing up, she saw as they passed under a mirrored sconce. The round-faced kid she had been whacking upside the head for over a year now was slowly giving way to something resembling an adult male, or whatever came right before that. If he wasn't as light on his feet as Schwann, well, he had yet to step on her. "So how'd you get kicked out of the dancing guild?"

"What?!" Karol stopped dead, nearly bumping into someone next to them. He coughed, fumbling for his lost dignity along with the beat. "There is no dancing guild! The actors taught me how to do this, thanks a lot for asking."

"I was wondering about that," said Yuri to Estelle as they passed close enough to overhear.

"He's very good," she said proudly. "And I can't believe Rita! She almost looked like she was enjoying it!"

"I hope so. Karol still has both his hands." Yuri had stopped trying to figure out which foot went where, and just tried not to mash Estelle's feet. The trick was to pretend that whatever _you _were doing was right, and anyone who thought otherwise was stupid—like a noble!

The thought made him shudder.

"Are you all right?" Estelle tried to tug her hand free. "It's a little hot in here. Do you want to sit down?"

"No, no, it's just...never mind." He smiled at her. Staying this close to Judith had been a little unnerving, but Estelle in full evening wear was still Estelle, even if he was socially obligated to manhandle her. "That stripey thing looks good. Pale colors don't do you much justice."

"R-really?" Her dress was not striped, per se, but the black on white was a fairly daring choice for a formal ball thrown in her honor. She couldn't help a little thrill of exultation—finally, something he liked that wasn't shaped like cat ears!

"Yep. You've got it just right." Like Rita, he thought, Estelle picked just the right shade and amount of red to turn when she was embarrassed, though Rita had the better coloring for it.

...Was it his imagination, or was she getting warmer all over? Yuri flexed the hand on her waist experimentally, then realized his mistake as she gave a little squeak and stared at him with huge eyes. "Oh, crap! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to actually grab you, I was just curious—"

"No, it's all right. It happens some...curious about what?" Estelle's brow furrowed. "If you were wondering whether I was ticklish, I have to say—"

"No! I was just thinking, warm, and Rita, and...damn," he finished as the music drew to a close. "Look, it was dumb and rude. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Estelle said on a curtsy, "and now you'd better go dance with Rita. She's being swamped." She brushed past him.

Neither Yuri nor Rita said anything to each other till their dance was half over. "Well," Yuri broke the silence brightly. "This is awkward. How do we get out of this next time?"

"Break each other's legs." Rita was getting more annoyed by the second. "What did you do to Estelle? She's dancing with the least uncoordinated man in the whole room, but she looks ready to cry. Did you grab her or something?"

"Will you stop being ri—no! I didn't grab her," Yuri snapped. "It's not my fault I have to hold my arms up and then freeze like this the whole time. I just moved my hand a little. See?" He repeated the motion on her waist, and Rita promptly headbutted him in the chin.

"Oh, forgive me, good sir, for stumbling! I seem to be getting tired," she exclaimed, pulling him back upright and into some semblance of the turning steps. "It seems I _must_ rest after this dance. Really," she continued in a normal tone, "we should never do this again. Everyone looks all different, and it's messing with our heads."

"Agreed," Yuri managed through his teeth. "Hurts."

As it happened, Rita didn't have to worry about fending off dance partners once her turn with Yuri was over. Even as they were bending politely at each other, a woman cried out nearby, and they turned just as Schwann fell to one knee, coughing so hard that everyone drew back.

"Please, give him room," Estelle said unnecessarily over the noise, and met Rita on either side of him. "There's a space over here behind the stairs where he can rest..."

"I'll take him. Go dance with Yuri and let him squeeze you some more—oh, and heal his jaw, would you?" Rita looped Schwann's arm over her shoulder and stood him up with considerable difficulty, waving Estelle away. "Come on, you ol—Captain, this way. You just need some room. Make way! I said, _make way_!"

The crowd hastily made way. Surrounded by concerned little murmurs and nothing in the way of actual help, Rita maneuvered Schwann to a deep-set alcove near the orchestra and almost threw him back against the wall. "Sorry, old man, but you're heavy," she said, panting. "Can you breathe?"

Schwann nodded. He could stand unaided, albeit shakily. The music was starting again, masking most of the sound in and out of the alcove. "Where...is Estellise?"

"I didn't want her to see it if it's come loose again. I'll get her as soon as I've checked it. Hold on..." Rita spent a few fruitless and thoroughly embarrassing seconds searching the front of his uniform. "Damn it, how does this thing work? Let me see your blastia!"

"It's fine. Really." Her expression darkened, and he staggered back against the wall, holding both gloves up in self-defense. "I promise! I haven't done anything strenuous enough to tear the skin."

"Is he okay?" asked Karol at Rita's back.

"What did he do now?" Judith wanted to know.

"It's all right, you two," Rita assured them, but gave Schwann a quick Look to let him know the consequences of it _not _being all right. He raised his hands again, helplessly. She shook her head. "He's just worn out already. You guys can go back to...uh...old ladies. And lots of dumb guys."

For some reason, neither looked very pleased at that prospect.

"Seriously, though, Estelle is going to worry if she sees all of us missing." Rita waved them away. "You can probably wrangle a dance with Flynn or Ioder, Judith, and Karol, have you seen Kaufman?" The boy shook his head. "Well, go see her. Shoo. Shoo!"

"You do have a way with words," Schwann murmured as their friends reluctantly waded back into the fray.

"Shut up." She put her hands on her hips. "Should I call someone to help you back to wherever it is you sleep? A crypt, maybe?"

He scowled. "Just for that, no."

Rita waited, but he was just...looking at her again. "What?" The mage brushed her hair from her eyes impatiently. "Spit it out, old man."

"Have you ever..." Another cough wracked him. Rita looked around, dashed out to grab some punch from a waiter, and pressed it into Schwann's hand. The Knight downed it in one swallow, letting her take the empty glass. "Thank you. Has anyone ever told you your concern is a little too much to bear?"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" She couldn't see another table to put the glass down, and the waiter was gone.

Schwann rubbed his forehead with the back of one hand. "I'll make a deal with you, Rita. I won't cross swords at the tournament tomorrow, if you believe it would put me—I'm sorry, your work at risk..."

"A few minutes walking in circles nearly killed you," Rita pointed out. "Fighting in that stupid tournament would be one of the dumbest things you've ever done."

"Taking that for a yes, then, I'll stay away from swords, and bows and knives, of course..." To her alarm, Schwann smiled at her. "If you'll dance with me again."

There were so many things to say to that that not one of them got out. She heard the orchestra finish the current song, and the rattle of paper as they changed music for the next. "W…"

With only a little effort, Schwann pushed himself off the wall and took her elbow. "The last one, I promise."

"W-wait!" Rita tugged in vain, hastily putting the cup on the nearest available surface as they reapproached the dance floor. "You jerk, what do you—"

"Who better to ensure I don't come to any harm?" He raised his eyebrows at her over his shoulder. "The musicians have a break after this dance. You can sift through the other gentlemen as you like once we're through."

"Who says I want to sift with anyone?!" People around them were noticing and whispering, and Rita did _not _like this anymore. ...Which meant she had liked it before? She shook her head to clear it of punch and girldom. "If you keel over and die in the middle of—"

"I won't," he said gently, and took up her hand.

There went her face again. "As if you'd know," she mumbled as they stepped off.

The trouble was, he didn't keel over in the middle of it, much less die. Moreover, he was still very good at it, and Rita couldn't deny that she was enjoying herself—not to herself, at least. "Any impending death?" she asked him after a minute or so.

"None," he answered, and tilted his head at her. "And if I do, there are worse ways to go."

Rita cast her eyes up. By now, the rhythm was natural enough that she didn't need to think about her feet. "I shudder to think of what Judith has been putting up with all night."

"She's stunning. You're hardly inferior, though." She felt him shrug. "I wouldn't have recognized you earlier if not for the necklace."

Rita snorted, a little too loudly. "Why didn't you ask her? I could've gone back and gotten her for you."

"Because I wanted to dance with you," he said with a small frown. "If being complimented is really that awful, Rita, why did you even come here tonight?"

She hated having to say it again, but out it came anyway: "What's that supposed to mean?"

He chose his words with visible care. "It means you don't look like a child anymore. But you're still thinking like one."

"_I'm _childish?" Rita lowered her voice to a hiss. "You drew on my face yesterday morning!"

Schwann shook his head at her. "You're not listening. I said you were thinking like one, emotionally. Has anyone ever said anything kind to you about your appearance – your skin, or your eyes, or your neck – without getting hurt?"

To the best of her knowledge, no one had ever said anything about them, period, but that was probably what the prying old jerk wanted to— "Wait. My neck? Who goes around staring at necks?" She should have been profoundly disturbed at that one. Instead, she felt...funny. Stupid punch.

The Captain chuckled. "A friendly word of advice?" He shrugged again, his demeanor suddenly a bit Ravenish. "To put it scientifically, every woman is the sum of her components. But people aren't formulas, so it's not wise to dismiss yourself based on, say, Judith's sum. Anyone with sense doesn't just count physical appearance, either, so your sum is completely up to the perceiver."

"Is that even a word?" she asked, curious despite her growing something-like-discomfort.

Schwann smiled, just a little. "I don't know. Do you see my point, though?"

"Yeah, I think so." Rita contemplated necks as they swayed to the music. "So, the moral of the story is, I have to watch out for dirty old men when I'm wearing dresses?"

Schwann nodded gravely. "Or your working clothes, or anything else."

"Well. How...sweet of you?" She closed her eyes for a moment. The dance was ending already, and she didn't want it to. "Thanks."

They slowed, parted, and dipped in unison. Schwann wiped his forehead on one sleeve, and Rita could suddenly see Raven sitting on the _Fiertia_, with that horrible stain spreading over his heart. "You, there," she said to someone passing by in a green-and-white livery. The servant stopped and bowed to her. "Sir Schwann is under medical orders to save his strength for tomorrow. See him to his room, please." The lies rolled off quite nicely, and the servant bowed again as the people around them whispered to each other—didn't they have anything better to do?

"My thanks for your consideration," Schwann said formally, and before she could smirk at him, he took up her hand again and touched his lips to it. "I will see you at the opening ceremony, Miss Mordio. Please enjoy the rest of your night."

She tried to give him the curtsy equivalent of "You are _dead_, you sneaky bastard," but it didn't seem to work.

* * *

The rest of the night was long, and not very comfortable, even when she spoke with Judith over the first break; word around the floor was that someone had seen Estelle resting her head on Yuri's shoulder during the last dance. This tidbit was quite satisfying for Brave Vesperia and some of the other guilds, and deliciously horrible to the rest of the gathering.

"You'd think he would have exercised some more discretion," Flynn complained to their little group near the staircase.

"You're talking about discretion?" Karol grabbed another glass of punch. "Didn't you guys go out naked in front of the whole—"

"Not the whole castle!" The Commandant's fair complexion did nothing to mask his embarrassment. "And that was his fault, too!"

"But I thought Estelle was the one who was leaning on him?" Judith sipped at her glass carefully. "Good for her, I say. He's an awful dancer."

Flynn almost laughed, but caught himself. "That's not the point!"

And this, Rita mused, was what mattered to people of a certain elevation: innocuous and momentary physical contact at a dance where, by definition, you had to be holding or held by a person not of your gender. Nobles were _dumb._

Had there been any justice in the world, someone would have approached her to dance, swept her off her feet, and thus proven her wrong; wasn't that what happened at dances? Instead, she was stammered at, grabbed, stepped and even sweated on by most of the rest of her partners. It was richly satisfying to send the grabbiest away with a burnt hand and let Karol take her around the floor for the last two sets.

Then, the real reward of dancing: she got to go back to her room and take her shoes off. Now this was living!

She wondered, though, as she turned over in the wee hours and snuzzled deeper into the thick covers—did Raven ever miss any of this when he was out with them? Or did Schwann really seem like another life entirely?


	3. Chapter 3

**III.**

They all ate breakfast mid-morning to report sleeping with no problems, especially Karol and his seven cups of nectarine punch.

Teasing him, and then Estelle and Yuri, took up most of late morning and early afternoon, as there really wasn't much else to do. Fields not plowed that year were being set up with chairs, benches, and a dais for the more important attendants, work considered too lowly for the Princess and her guests. Security around the castle was too tight to allow for a visit to the lower quarter yet, either, trapping Yuri at his friends' mercy.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," he said for the hundredth time as they made their armed-escort way down to the tourney field. "It was only for a second. Can't anyone do anything up here without everyone staring at you all the time?"

"No. Nuh-uh. Nope!" they chorused.

"Please, everyone, be seated," Estelle said haughtily as they reached a lower row of chairs. "On my left hand—"

"Yuri, hurry up and get over there, she needs a headrest," Karol cut in.

"You're all awful!" the princess snapped over the laughter. "For your information, I have to sit with Flynn and Ioder. You sit down here—I hope the dust gets all over you!"

"Seriously, guys. Lay off," Yuri warned as Estelle stormed away.

"Why don't you just..." Rita made a vaguely illustrative gesture. "Y'know?"

Yuri scowled at her. "I'd better not."

"Better not know?" Judith asked. "Or better not do something more salacious next time?"

"Better not _know_! Dammit, this is like being back in school!"

"I almost never went to school," Karol boasted.

"No wonder no one ever taught you to keep your nose where it belongs." Yuri slammed into a front-row seat. "Why isn't anyone bugging Rita about her night?"

They all looked at Rita. She smiled. "Because there was nothing special about it. Also?" She held up her hand, into which a fireball suddenly sprang to life. "But you're right, this is too easy." The flame winked out. "What exactly are we watching today, anyway?"

"A joust, whatever that is," Karol said, and pointed to the waist-high pole bisecting the field, flanked by bright tents. "It's just the higher officers, and Flynn, too."

"A _what_?" Rita sprang to her feet. "The Captains are jousting?!"

"That's what he said, Rita." Judith shrugged. "It's riding down the field and trying to poke each other off their horses. Not too dangerous, with the lances blunted—"

"I know! Sword or bow or knife. Argh!" Rita crashed back into her seat, seething. "I'm gonna kill him!"

* * *

The rest of the seats filled up quickly, as did the standing room. The nobles and high-ranked guild members behind them all nudged one another and whispered, mostly at Yuri, till Rita turned to ask if there was anything particularly interesting about any of them that she could perhaps explain in greater detail, including the rest of the seats in her threat.

"Thanks," Yuri whispered in some surprise.

"It's not funny unless we're doing it," she whispered back.

Trumpets rang out; Ioder, Estelle, Harry, and Flynn all emerged from the tents to open the event with what seemed to Rita, word for word, like their sappy little speeches from the ball. She didn't care: she wanted Schwann in pieces, or at least thoroughly beaten, and she wanted it _now._

The opening match was a welcome distraction, as a couple of lieutenants rode so well – and were so evenly matched – that their lances shattered on all three ground-thudding passes. Rita almost forgot to be angry as the young men dismounted and saluted each other to general cheering. "This is the only sport I've ever seen where losing looks so cool," she said to her friends.

"They didn't lose. Stalemates happen a lot," Yuri explained. "It used to be anyone could do this, but keeping the right horses and equipment costs too damn much. That's why the Captains are up next—they're the only ones left who've practiced it much."

In fact, it was almost two hours before the lieutenants were through. Despite herself, Rita was glad to see that only three Knights seemed to sustain any real injuries as they crashed off their mounts. A squadron of healers was at the ready each time, hustling the losers into the tents to strip them down, fix whatever was wrong, and let them reemerge to wave at the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Everyone within a hundred yards winced as Leblanc took up the herald's position. He had not participated in the joust, ostensibly because it was his job to announce the day's major events, but mostly because he was so hung over that he wouldn't have been able to grasp the correct end of the lance. Word of Yuri Lowell's shocking indiscretion had been the source of both merriment and gloom amongst the common soldiers, many of whom wanted to know what a girl like the Lady Estellise would be doing with a piece of braided crap like him.

Leblanc swayed on his feet and launched another aural assault: "All rise for the Captains!"

This was not precisely what he was supposed to say, but close enough, so everyone obediently got up as the highest-ranked members of the Imperial Army rode by in single stately file.

As Schwann passed, Rita made a credible attempt to glare a hole in the side of his head; he gave her the barest glance, then turned his eyes away. Her seatmates edged away from her, just in case.

"The first match...!"

...was someone they didn't care about. Schwann had disappeared into one of the tents. Rita had never wanted to throw a fireball so badly as she did just then, staring at the pennant flapping in the wind. There was still the question of how fast he'd burn with so little body fat—

"That wouldn't be very sporting, Rita," Yuri scolded her gently. "What did he do, anyway? I hear he was sucking up to you pretty hard at the dance last night."

Her palm snapped out, just short of his nose. As he stared, leaning desperately back in his seat, smoke began to trickle out of her fingertips. "Okay. Okay! Sorry I asked!"

Schwann emerged on the third round, against someone else they didn't know. The first pass turned Rita's stomach into knots: the younger Captain's lance glanced off Schwann's shield, nearly knocking his helm off.

On the second, though, Schwann plucked his opponent neatly out of the saddle and sent him flying...for a moment, anyway, till all that metal met earth at an impressive speed.

"Are you all right, Rita?" Judith asked as the loser was helped into a tent.

"I'm gonna kill him." Rita mopped at her face with her sleeve.

Flynn went next, an even more welcome distraction; he had evidently been practicing since his ascension, because he and the Captain against whom he rode were almost equally skilled. In fact, when Flynn managed to tip the other man off his horse on the third ride, the Commandant insisted on swapping swords with him. "Good one," Yuri said, half to himself.

Rita wasn't keeping close track, but she thought it was one of the last matches left when Flynn and Schwann were announced toward dusk. She sat up straight, hoping against hope that Schwann would knock Flynn down right away so she could catch up to the Captain and beat him to within an inch of his scummy word-playing life. How was the idiot even still on his horse?

The first pass began. Schwann caught Flynn square on the shield, and Flynn...stuck on, to groans and applause.

The second pass looked promising; Flynn was standing half up in the stirrups, Schwann leaning in to aim his lance—which suddenly dipped, leaving him unprotected as Flynn struck him low in the shoulder and threw him to the ground.

The whole crowd was on its feet. "Cheating!" and "Quitter!" were the nicest things being shouted by the guild members. The Knights looked unsure whether to join in or disagree out of habit.

"SILENCE!" roared Leblanc, and got it, so that everyone saw and heard Rita catapult herself onto the lists and race after the mages carrying Schwann into the tent. "You there, Mordio—"

"He didn't cheat!" Rita turned long enough for everyone to get a vivid impression of her pale, angrily set features. "Sir Schwann went on the field today against _my_ orders. The idiot was hurt already, and if I hear anyone saying he lost on purpose, you'll answer to me, too! Got it?"

No one challenged her. She stomped her way into the tent, followed closely by Estelle and Ioder. "Keep everyone else out," Flynn said to Leblanc, and the flap dropped shut behind him.

The tent was dim, very warm, and crowded. With expert precision, two mages were unfastening Schwann's armor and helmet in the lamplight, handing the pieces off as they worked. "Turn the light up and let me see," Rita ordered.

They exchanged a round of annoyed glances, though none were brave enough to share one with her. "Rita Mordio, you are not trained as a healer," a mage said. "We must ask that you and the Lady Estellise—"

"Do as she says," Flynn snapped.

Rita gave him a grateful nod and stepped into the man's place, untying the arming doublet and ripping it away as fast as she could. "You. Is he breathing?"

The nearest mage put his ear to the unconscious man's lips. "...I think so."

"Not good enough. Yes or no? Check his pulse." Rita beckoned to Flynn. "Knife, please."

Flynn handed her his dagger. Everyone could see dark spots on Schwann's shirt. "I don't understand. I didn't pierce anything," Flynn said in low, troubled tones. "He was guarding, and then—"

"He passed out, or close enough, and couldn't block it. I told him not to do anything like this!" Rita slit his shirt right down the middle, peeling the cloth back from his chest. "Now, I—"

One of the most horrible moments of her life oozed down her skull and into her stomach. The blastia's metal was so badly dented at one end that the whole thing had been...popped out, just a little, just enough.

Rita didn't have time to be sick, because one of the mages plopped to the ground in a dead faint behind her and she suddenly realized how many people were staring at what remained of Schwann's – Raven's – heart.

"Get out—no! Stay here." Her mind raced in five different directions. Get it back in... "Is he breathing or not? ANSWER ME!"

"Yes! Yes, he is, he was..." The mage's eyes widened as he checked again. "No. Miss Mordio, what in the—"

Rita sized up her assistants and pointed with the dagger. "Flynn. Come press down here, hard as you can. The rest of you—_get back here_! Ioder, keep them all in! Estelle, I want you to heal the edges, but don't touch the rest. ...Good. You don't have to look at it, just be careful to stay away from the core." She handed the dagger back, lest she be tempted to use it. "Estelle, call Undine. Right now."

The elemental spirit's appearance scared the other mages so badly that Ioder had to bar the tent flap with his own body to keep them from stampeding out. Rita hoped they'd be too polite to run over him: she did not want word of this getting out yet. "Two of you, get your asses back here and do whatever it is you do to stabilize people who can't breathe." She took a deep breath and said, more respectfully, "Undine, can you help him in any way? I don't think the core itself was damaged, just the casing and a couple of connectors."

Undine concentrated a moment on Schwann's prone form. "No...I am sorry. I cannot reestablish the spark of life, only maintain it."

"Spark?" Before despair could move in and paralyze her, Rita dug into her biggest pocket, coming up with a handful of crystals. She elbowed the mages aside, sized up the best location, and held two of the bigger crystals directly above the dented metal. "Stand back!"

The only downside of her bringing them sharply together on the metal was that her eyebrows were nearly singed off. The upside was that Schwann stirred, coughed, and tried to sit up.

"Prop him up," said one of the mages to his gaping colleagues. "Heart patients can strangle if you leave 'em prone. Get a move on, he won't hurt you!"

Rita massaged her hands; prickling heat ran down her gloved fingers as the crystals dropped to the grass. "Is that better, Undine?"

"Indeed." The graceful head bent in acknowledgment. "A moment..."

Everyone in the tent watched as an air-light, greenish tendril dropped from Undine's extended hand and made its way into the blastia shell, curling into him and disappearing like smoke. "That will suffice for now," Undine said.

"Thanks." Rita turned her face up to the elemental spirit. "But not for long, huh?"

"I cannot say." The crystals at their feet trembled under a flood of gentle light. "I will lend you some of my power, should this happen again. But I am not infinite. This man cannot survive through me, you understand."

"I know. Thank you anyway." Rita bowed her head, and Estelle also bowed from the waist. Just in case, Flynn and even Ioder copied them as Undine shimmered, fading from their sight.

Rita retrieved the crystals and stashed them safely, turning to Schwann. "You."

"Rita?" Schwann gave a couple of rattling coughs, squinting at each of them in turn. "What...?"

"You passed out. Blastia went dead. I saved you." Rita smiled, stepped forward, and slapped him so hard that Estelle cried out in alarm. "Aaand we're even."

"Miss Mordio," the highest-ranked mage said slowly. "Does this...you mean, this man has no heart? A construct, instead?"

Damn. Rita ran both hands through her hair. "Yeah. How it happened doesn't matter, but he's got a blastia for a heart. Why?"

"And he's alive and well!" Taking no heed of Schwann's inability to move under his own power, one mage clapped her hands, trembling with excitement. "Do you know what this means?"

"It means you want to try it on other people," Ioder said from the back of the tent. "To help others who've lost hearts, or perhaps other organs."

"Well said, Your Highness!" the leader cried. "Was this your creation, Miss Mordio? None of us has ever—"

"No." The ragged word came from Schwann, whose eyes were nearly closed. They all watched as he struggled to sit up straighter. "No. _Not _her idea. I got it during the war. Alexei."

That name should have given them serious pause, Rita thought. Instead, they brightened. "The former Commandant? Remarkable! What else did he neglect to share with us?"

Estelle cringed. Flynn was almost swelling with rage. "That is not an appropriate sentiment right now, for any of you! Captain Schwann—"

"Is a living miracle! My father died of heart failure as a young man. What might this have done for him?" another mage demanded.

"Turned him into a _thing_," Schwann muttered. He shook his head. "I refuse to hear anything else about—"

"But Captain, think of what we could do with this kind of device," the first speaker said softly, persuasively. "We can't heal organs that have been damaged or worn out beyond a certain point. If someone wants to have the choice to rework his heart for another ten or twenty years of life—"

"No!" Schwann coughed again, turning his head painfully. "I won't see anyone else reduced to this."

"Reduced to what?" Estelle came forward, glaring at Schwann. "Reduced to _what_, Sir Schwann? A war hero, a Knight, a Captain, and a friend? Who gave you the right to decide whether anyone should or shouldn't have access to medical technology?"

Schwann stared at her in disbelief. Then he refocused. "Rita?"

"Who says everyone will be as stupid as you and go running around breaking things instead of staying in bed when their heart isn't working?" The mage couldn't look at him anymore. She turned her back, facing the mages, fists on hips. "As for you? I know all of you. Can you be absolutely certain—can you look him in the eye and tell him no evil will come of letting his blastia be studied? I've heard the noises people in Aspio used to make about implanting blastia to enhance soldiers."

She raised her voice as the leader tried to speak: "And if you study it without his permission, you are guilty of the grossest ethical violation since Alexei first started experimenting on people, and I will _cheerfully _have you stripped of every license, title and right you've ever gotten your hands on." That got their attention, she saw with satisfaction.

The leader swallowed. Then he had to do it again. "Rita Mordio. That was unnecessary."

"If I'd thought so, I wouldn't have said it." Rita risked a glance at Ioder, who looked thoughtful. "Thank you for blocking the door, Your Highness."

"Not at all, Miss Mordio," Ioder replied. He sized up the rest of the tent. "Am I correct in supposing word of this should not be released yet to the rest of the court?"

"Give me some time," Schwann said faintly. His eyes were closed, head falling back. "My room, tonight, nine o'clock. Till then..." He grimaced, but was already well on his way to sleep.

"Stupid." Rita tried to suppress the shaking in her legs. He'd really been dead for a minute there. She took a steadying breath. "So the joust is over?"

"Very much so," Ioder said dryly. He motioned for Estelle to cover Schwann's chest. As she did, Ioder opened the tent flap and said to Leblanc over the crowd's curious noise, "Sir Schwann has had a heart seizure, but recovered thanks to our Princess and the mages' excellent work. Purses go to all participants tonight."

Leblanc passed this information on to the audience at head-splitting volume.

"What's more," Ioder told him, too well-bred to betray any anxiety about further employing the man's vocal gifts at such short range, "the conclusion of the melee tomorrow will yield our first semifinalist." He dropped the tent flap, raising his hands to his ears.

They were arranging Schwann comfortably and trying to ignore Leblanc, which accounted for a lack of damage control when it happened: the lieutenant was capable of telling the crowd that the semifinalist would be in the running for something; when a man pulled him aside and asked what the prize might be, though, Leblanc's beery mind – not the strongest or ablest vehicle under the best of circumstances – veered from a choice of Gald purses or consideration for Captaincy, as Ioder and Flynn had agreed, to what _he _would've wanted were he the winner.

Thus, he answered at the top of his lungs, "The winner of the tournament shall have the Lady Estellise's hand in marriage!"

* * *

Schwann's room was far, far down a little-used corridor in the palace's highest floor. After supper, Rita walked it between Karol and Estelle in tensely wrought silence. Finally, she had to be the one to say it: "So. 'I'm already promised to someone.' Was that the best you could do, Estelle? Really? Whatever happened to 'He's drunk and stupid and lying'?"

"A little too creative," Karol agreed.

"Yes. It was." Estelle had been angrily flushed all day, it seemed, and Leblanc's gaffe had not helped. Neither had her improvisation...or the way everyone had swung around to stare at Yuri, who had asked them what they were looking at _him _for. The princess covered her face with her hands. "I can't belie-eve it!"

"Cheer up, Estelle," Judith said soothingly. "Just chop off the man's head and say it was your evil twin that said you were engaged, and—"

"That's not funny!"

"What's not funny?" Schwann leaned heavily out his doorway.

"Ra...you!" Karol ran forward and threw his arms around the Captain, surprising them all. "We didn't know what to think when you got hurt! I thought you were dead!"

"Not too far off." Schwann patted the boy's head, pushing him gently away. "Why so worried? Rita and Estelle were right there."

"Mostly Rita," Estelle admitted.

"She was scared, too," Karol protested. "The crowd thought you lost on purpose, and you shoulda seen how Rita got out and yelled at everyone!"

"Shut up." Rita bopped him lightly. "So how're you feeling, idiot? You shouldn't be up."

"Chastised." He inclined his head. "Thank you. If there's anything I can do to repay you—"

"That's just creepy." The mage walked past him and through the open door. "So this is your place?"

"In the palace, at least." Schwann let them go first into the room. "It's not really mine, but it's comfortable enough."

"This bed's big enough for five people!" Karol hopped up the steps preceding the huge four-poster, peering at the fireplace's wide, elaborately carved mantel. A good-sized fire was alight in it, though the day had been warm. "This is great!"

There was a whistle from the door as Yuri, Flynn and Repede entered. "Not bad," Yuri said, kicking at the deep green rug. "You doing okay, old man?"

"Somehow." Schwann's face darkened as mages started to come in behind Repede, at least half a dozen more than had been in the tent. "I thought His Highness made it clear—"

"We're not technically part of the court, Sir Schwann," the leader said smoothly. "We will not let knowledge of this...event...escape us, rest assured."

"I smell blackmail," Karol said hotly.

"Karol!" Flynn snapped.

"No, he's just about got it, Flynn." Rita crossed her arms. "I wouldn't be surprised if these guys were planning to let something 'slip' if R—Schwann doesn't let them have a good look."

"That's not necessary, Rita Mordio," a weedy-looking mage at the back of the group protested. "Surely the fastest way to eliminate any potential prejudice toward this sort of enhancement would be to render it available to everyone? That which is commonplace can hardly be feared."

"Not while we know nothing about the implantation process or its long-term effects," Flynn said firmly, reaching into his belt for a small sheaf of papers. He presented them to Rita, deterring the other mages with a meaningful glance. "I had Witcher go through all the former Commandant's notes. There doesn't seem to be anything related to Sir Schwann's...procedure."

"Good." Schwann sank into a tattered chair. "Forgive me for not standing, I'm still recovering. Luckily, that's given me time to think..."

He sighed. "I will allow study of the device sustaining my life. I'll also permit extrapolation and publication of any relevant data as it may pertain to improving or preserving lives."

In that moment of dizzying silence, all Rita could think about was the time Raven had had a competition with Karol and Judith to see who could make the best farting noises with their hands. If she hadn't _known_ they were the same person...

The mages were grinning.

"Furthermore, I will only allow this study to be conducted by Rita Mordio."

The mages stopped grinning.

Rita was the first one to speak: "Huh?"

"You don't trust anyone else, do you, old man?" Yuri said quietly. "Smart."

Schwann shifted his weight in the overstuffed chair. It looked twenty years older than anything else in the room, possibly something he'd brought from a real home. "I know no other mage as honest, intelligent, and trustworthy. Forgive me for saying so, gentlemen and other ladies of Aspio, but for all I know, you could be looking for the means to turn people into living explosives or some ghastly thing like that." He smiled, suddenly and sadly. "I'm also reasonably confident of her ability to keep me alive, as demonstrated today."

"And what if she keeps the results to herself?" snarled another mage.

"As she did the conversion of elemental spirits? Or any of the dozens of discoveries she's made before you?" Schwann withered him with a stare. "If she does not publish her results, it will be because they are not fit to be shared." He sighed, settling deeper. "That will be all."

"The hell it is!" Rita saw the mages' faces and wanted to laugh; she saw Schwann's weariness and wanted to hit him. "I don't have anything I need here. It's all back in Capua Torim, like I told you!"

"Then we'll get permission to leave as soon as possible," Schwann said, closing his eyes.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, just in case that would get her brain going again. Nope. "Wh...wh... But we have no idea how long that'll take!"

Schwann lifted a shoulder. "Then I'll bring my toothbrush."

"You're gonna stay with Rita?" Karol said dubiously. "Is that...safe?"

"Not remotely," Schwann answered.

"I'll report to His Highness." Flynn caught himself bowing to Schwann – the Commandant did not bow to Captains – and tapped a mage on a retreating shoulder instead. "Pardon. May I assume you will continue to not share this with the court, or anyone who would do so for you?"

"You may assume anything you like, Commandant," the man said coldly.

Flynn smiled. "Excellent! Because if word were to get around that Sir Schwann was some kind of heart-lacking monster, I would have to conclude that His Highness Ioder had been lied to _and _disobeyed by an entire contingent of what used to be the empire's finest mages." He gestured over his shoulder. "What's more, a young lady of questionable restrainability would doubtless hear about it."

"Yes, Commandant," the mage said, more humbly this time, and was allowed to scuttle off.

Yuri peeked at Rita from a would-be discreet distance. "You okay?"

"I'm not sure I like the idea of..." Estelle put a hand to her lips. "Raven? ...Staying alone in a young lady's home? We could pay to keep him at the inn—"

"Quit calling me a young lady. And I don't have time to be running back and forth from my place to the inn. They're on opposite sides of town." Rita scowled. "Is this what I get for not letting him die?"

Schwann massaged his temples with one hand. "I look forward to trespassing on your hospitality."


	4. Chapter 4

**IV.**

Two days later, Rita woke up just the way she liked: in her own house, in her own bed, without anyone yelling at her. This was more like it, she thought, curling up against a pillow as big as herself.

But the sun was rising, as it does; the room inevitably grew too warm and too bright for sleep. Rita had no choice but to kick off the covers, roll over, and squint at the ceiling till she could readjust to the waking world.

She lay in an utterly contented haze for a few minutes, punching the pillows around her head into a cozier nest. Then, when twinges of unease started nibbling at her, she tried to ignore them, scrunching deeper into the blankets…till her brain caught up and her eyes snapped open in alarm.

What the _hell_ was she doing in here?

It was a deceptively simple question. When Rita first decided to rent this narrow, three-storied house overlooking Capua Torim's docks, Estelle had talked her into keeping the master bedroom furnished for visitors, lest the new house grow as cluttered as the old hut in Aspio.

Sure enough, Rita immediately sold off the smaller bedroom's furniture to make room for essentials like beakers, blackboards, live electric wires, and ten-foot book stacks; the rest of the second floor, half the living room, and most of the kitchen soon followed suit. The master/guest bedroom was now the only place in the house safe for normal people to sleep.

As for Rita…well. For nostalgia's sake, she sometimes fell asleep in the spare room with a couple dozen volumes piled on her; usually, though, she preferred the little couch downstairs, or wherever in her work she happened to doze off. This neat, bare room and its wide bed might as well not exist when she didn't have guests in the house.

…Guests?

Perplexed, the mage got up, scanning the room for signs of suspicious activity. Her clothes were in place; nothing was missing; the door and window were shut. She tried to recall the previous night, how she'd stayed up late working on a new type of battery. Raven had been so quiet after dinner that—

Memories resurfaced. Facts clicked. "Hey," Rita said sharply, and threw open the bedroom door.

The book-littered landing between the stairs and the third-floor ladder was unoccupied. Rita checked the bathroom, glanced up at the hatch to her rooftop lab, then went downstairs a few steps and stuck her head over the railing. "Hey! Old man!"

"Nnnnf." Beneath the front windows, a purple-coated lump uncurled, flopped onto its back, and waved feebly at her. "Mornin', sunshine. Whaddya want?"

"What are you doing down there?" If she was right about this—and she was…!

"I _was _sleepin'." Raven yawned hugely. "Whassat, a trick question?"

"You're supposed to be in the guest room! That's the whole point of having it!" She rubbed her eyes. One of these days, she'd figure out why yawning was contagious. "Why did I just wake up in there?"

Raven coughed on the end of another yawn, propping his head on his arms. "It felt creepy ta sleep in a bed when there was a lady on the floor, and I didn't see another one anywhere."

"So it's not creepy to _put_ me in there?!" Flame-faced, Rita looked around for something heavy to throw. "I can't believe you!"

"Whoa, whoa!" He grabbed the nearest sofa cushion and held it over his head. "I didn't do anything! I was tryin' ta be nice!"

"Well, don't!" she snarled, and stomped back into the guest room just so she could slam the door.

Luckily, the room had its own bathroom, so Rita had something to do before she came out to the landing again, quietly, and thought she heard regular breathing from downstairs. She'd gotten used to either being alone or surrounded by friends; it was bizarre to know he was the only other one here, almost weirder than the thought of having been carried to bed like…like…augh.

Unwilling to examine the quantity "augh" any further, the mage opened the window near the stairs and drew the old yellow curtains. Loose hair tickled her eyelids in the soft sea wind as she sat down to retrieve her battery from the shelf. She'd had some interesting ideas last night that, on second thought, weren't really that practical. Maybe a more malleable metal for the coils would—

"Hey." The voice from below made her jump. "Ya hungry?"

"Not yet." She picked up her favorite pliers, contemplating ways to use them should he attempt to come up here before she regained her composure. "Help your damn self. I'll get food when you're done."

"Nah, don't get up on my account. Really," Raven muttered, but she heard him make his way to the kitchen, coughing softly.

Rita twisted an errant wire back into a loop, pondering the next of many different cohabitation dilemmas: meals. Last night, with their friends lingering till dinnertime, she had made stir fry – her only consistently edible dish – and dodged Estelle's last attempt to talk her out of this arrangement by reiterating the one-handed veggies-in-sandwich idea.

The princess had been so appalled by the notion of reading at the table that she'd forgotten to be appalled by the notion of a sixteen-year-old girl keeping a grown man under her roof; in fact, the diversion had lasted till it was an hour past the time they'd promised Flynn they would be back in Zaphias. By that point, Rita could count on Yuri and Judith to help get Estelle out the door, whether the princess was satisfied or not.

No sooner than the door closed, silence had fallen over the house. It was hard to tell if Raven was as apprehensive as she was, or if he was just tired; whatever the case, Rita had watched him stretch out on the couch – feet and folded arms dangling over the ends – then told herself it'd be politer to go upstairs and find something to work on while he got comfortable. Apparently, sleep had happened first, and…well, now it was time for breakfast.

Rita plucked at the front of her shirt in a futile bid to cool off. They really should have hammered out a cooking schedule while their friends were there to mediate, she reflected glumly. The two of them had always been the best at dodging that particular chore, as Estelle was eager to practice and the others actually enjoyed doing it; she was being amply compensated for this and a few other projects, but ordering takeout every night could get pricey, not to mention very old, very fast.

Too late now. It'd be at least a few days before Brave Vesperia came back to check on their progress, if not longer; getting away from Estelle's celebrations at all had been a huge headache. Luckily, the guild and the princess had been able to pull strings hard enough to get the melee delayed till tomorrow, when it would be dedicated to Captain Schwann's speedy recovery.

In the meantime, Rita found she had never appreciated how group dynamics acted as a buffer between individuals: she'd never spent more than a few minutes alone with the old man at a time, and always with the option of getting the hell away from him if needed. Being left alone with anyone else in the group would've been easier to deal with.

To be fair, though, it was probably more accurate to say that Raven now lacked the option of getting away from her. This didn't make her feel much better.

She also now had the bed…thing…to deal with, a terrifically awkward start to the day and their work. It was all the more so because there was no one around to tell her that Raven had meant well, or that the odds of him having done anything inappropriate to a sleeping girl were – all jokes aside – next to nothing, and that she was within her rights to be embarrassed, but not homicidal.

Without their friends, it was up to Rita to tell herself these things, whether she wanted to hear them or not: they were true. The ability to quickly discern and act on the truth had kept her alive for as long as she could remember, and she could hardly kick the habit now. Unless she wanted to start arguing aloud with herself like a crazy old lady, she was going to have to go downstairs now and have a civil conversation with Raven. Anything she did till then was just wasting their time.

Speaking of which, her clocks were all approaching noon. Sighing, Rita got up and put the battery back on the shelf. The sooner they got along, she reasoned, the sooner they could get to work on that blastia; the sooner they'd both be happy.

* * *

Though staying with Rita had technically been his idea in the first place, Raven's enthusiasm for this whole project was rapidly circling the drain. Things had been so promising last night, too…in the sense that absolutely nothing happened once the others were gone. She'd just cleared the table, gone upstairs, forgotten he was there, and fallen asleep. No tension! No awkward silences! No violence, or threats thereof!

It was also anticlimactic as hell. There was no telling exactly how long she'd been snoring on the floor by the time he worked up the courage to go check on her. Raven had seen her sleep outside a bed before, of course, but had somehow figured she'd know better than to conk out on the floor in her own house—had she been raised by wolves? As he recalled his recent break-in with Karol, she was in nearly the same spot then as now, curled up on a rug by the shelf.

Apprehension and chivalry had struggled for supremacy in Raven's malfunctioning breast: should he let her stay where she liked and avoid dismemberment, or do a good deed _and _see if he could get away safely from another close Rita encounter? It'd worked at the ball…when she was under heavy peer pressure not to kill him. There was no one around now to hear him scream….

Curiosity won, and he wasn't thinking at all of yellow silk or anything when he'd picked her up—and then forgotten it in shock at how light Rita was. Raven was pretty sure he'd held _bows_ with more bulk. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, as if all the life in her should somehow make a palpable difference in a small, skinny female body; he could carry her with one arm, bad heart notwithstanding.

That wasn't the only thing to give him serious pause. Maybe his circulation had just gone downhill after the whole heart-stopped thing; maybe her fiery nature was more than a poetically stupid pun in the making. The point was, his chest and arms were suddenly warmer than they'd felt in weeks, and even the polite bits of her he'd handled were a lot softer than they looked.

And her hair smelled nice. But that didn't count.

Only the thought of her waking had made him step right into the guest room, plunk her into bed, and go find a safe spot behind the couch in case she got up and killed him anyway.

…On second thought, okay, maybe it was a little weird for an unrelated man more than twice her age to haul her around in her sleep. But was he going to be treated like a sex offender for the rest of his stay? The prospect was so depressing that—

"Hey, you."

"Gah!" Raven spun around from the fridge, backing against the counter, an apple raised in self-defense. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I was just walking," she said tartly, and sat down at the table. He watched her warily as she fiddled with the tablecloth, then swiveled to face him. "How are you feeling?"

"Mildly terrified." Holding his chest, Raven wondered if she could hear the old blastia's frantic little _tick-a tick-a_s from the scare she'd given him. Sometimes he thought he was imagining the sound, but he'd never asked anyone about it, and he wasn't going to start now. "Listen. If you're really that freaked out about—"

"I'm not. But don't do it again." Rita grabbed the apple out of his hand and bit into it, hard. "You don't have to take the bed if you don't want to," she said around a mouthful. "I'd just feel better if you stayed in the room itself."

Raven opened his mouth to protest his nonintentions to sneak around and molest her under the cover of darkness. She flapped her free hand at him. "No, not that! I want to keep track of where you are at night in case anything happens with your blastia." The girl took another bite. "You're having trouble staying asleep, right?"

"How'd ya know?" It was a stupid question. He'd tried to keep his cough quiet, but it was at its echoing worst in the middle of the night. Most of the castle had probably heard it.

Rita shrugged. "I asked your servants before we left Zaphias. They said you never slept more than five or six hours at a time."

"Figured. Just as long as I don't keep you up…" Raven rubbed his neck, stiff from where he'd used the couch to wedge himself upright under the front windows. He should be grateful that he'd finally been exhausted enough to grab a few hours of unbroken sleep.

"If you do, you'll be the first one to know." His gesture didn't escape her, evidently, as she continued, "Wherever you sleep, feel free to use the pillows or other stuff off the bed. Comfort's more important than housekeeping around here." Rita tugged absently at her goggles. "That room has a bathroom, too, so stay out of mine."

Despite himself, Raven smiled. "Yes'm. Anything else?"

"Yep. You need to stick around the house till I can get some instruments that'll pinpoint your problem." She raised one finger as she swallowed the last bit of apple. "It's boring to sit inside all day, but this is your only warning, old man: if I catch you running around again before I give you the okay, for any reason, you're _dead_. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Raven said fervently, wondering if he imagined some real concern, or if was just another excuse to threaten him.

…Not that he didn't deserve it. In a strange, very private way, he was glad Flynn had caught him that horrific blow in the joust; had Schwann come away safely, the girl's wrath wouldn't have stopped anywhere near a scorched chest and a smack in the face. Raven had been afraid for his life before – as you can only be when you're bleeding to death – but at least it was a known quantity. Really, irrevocably pissing Rita off would…he didn't know what, but thinking about it was terrifying, so he stopped.

"Good." The mage studied him for a silent moment. "Now sit down. You don't look so great."

Raven sat down. He didn't feel half as good as he probably looked. …Or would that be the other way around? His head was already starting to ache.

"Not many house rules really matter here," she was saying. "I only have one key, and I'm not making another." Rita shrugged. "I don't cook much, so help yourself to anything in the kitchen, whenever you like. I might ask the doctor here in town what you're not supposed to eat with heart problems. I know salt is—"

Three sharp knocks on the door. Raven winced. Rita jumped to her feet, tossing the apple core aside. "There we go. Grab a pen and some paper for me. You know where they are, you old bastard. …Hi, Kenneth. Thanks for coming back on such short notice. How're you doing?"

As Raven got up to locate writing supplies, he saw that a boy of ten or eleven was on the front step, struggling to stay upright under the weight of a hugely overloaded basket on his shoulders. Rita was helping him get it down and unloading groceries onto the floor.

"Over here, old man," the girl said with a jerk of her head. "Kenneth, this is Raven. He's here from the capitol to help me with my research. Raven, Kenneth. He lives next door. Take these to the kitchen—not the heavy stuff, idiot! Grab the smaller ones. I'll get the rest in a second." She took the paper, set it on the floor, and began writing in quick, jerky strokes. "I need a couple different things today, Ken. You might have to go to Fortune's Market headquarters to track down some of this stuff. Kaufman's still out of town, but see what you can do, all right?"

"'Kay," the boy said, watching Raven as the older man gathered a slow armful of packages. "Mr. Raven. Is he the dumb one?"

"It's not nice to call people that until you're friends with them," Rita said severely. Then she grinned. "But yeah, he is."

"You read the book, huh, kid?" Raven dropped everything on the kitchen table and dusted his hands off on his pants. "So ya know Rita's the crazy, violent one?"

"I dunno. She's a good tipper." Kenneth shrugged. "If she is crazy 'n violent, then you're dumb to say it right in front of her."

"See? Couldn't have put it better myself." Rita ruffled the boy's hair. "Here's an extra ten Gald. Twenty more if you get it all back here by tomorrow morning, okay?"

Kenneth accepted the list and his payment in awe: "Twenty? All right!" He was dashing around the corner before she had the door closed.

"He's a good kid," Rita said around an attempt to lift three glass jars one-handed. "Grab one of these. It probably won't kill you."

"But ya just said…never mind." It hadn't been _that _funny, he thought. At least she was smiling; it was all well and good for her to be cute when angry – and she was! – but he could use a break from it every so often, now more than ever. "So, ya never do yer own shoppin'?"

"Not on summer days. Too damn hot. Remember all the times Estelle had to heal my sunburns?" The mage dumped her load on the table, clearing space for Raven's much smaller remainder. "And stupid Judith never so much as tanned. It must be a Krityan thing."

"Mmmmm. Krityan things." Raven was suddenly in a happier place. "Ya know, yer right. She didn't have tan lines _any_where."

Rita brought him back to earth with a rap on the head. "Would you shut up? How would you even know that, anyway?" She hefted a two-foot bread loaf in both hands, clearly considering its offensive properties in case of a wrong answer.

"Well, easy. By observvvaaahhh, man, I'm starved!" Ducking under the hostile rye, Raven grabbed a handful of nuts from an open bag and stuffed them into his mouth. "Nu'in lie a goo' breffis, hhn?"

"Gross! How old _are _you, anyway?!" Rita flailed the loaf at him, as if warding off demons. "At least close your mouth!"

"Well, you were talkin' with yers full, too," he said genially, munching at a more decorous pace. "An' it's rude ta ask someone's age like that, missy. A person of such advanced years as myself knows when etiquette does 'n doesn't apply."

"Like hell. You're just immature," she snapped. "I stopped chewing with my mouth open when I was six."

"It probably helps ta not eat more'n once a day. That's just cheatin'." He dropped to his haunches in time to miss another blow to the head, and opened a cabinet: it was stuffed with books. "Where're the bowls?"

The mage broke the loaf in half, then tore each into smaller pieces. "One over. No, other one." She tapped the door with her foot. "Since I don't eat as much as you, we'll each do our own dishes. That way they won't pile up so fast."

"I've been meanin' ta ask…" Raven stood, shoveled more nuts into his bowl, and pulled another chair out. "S'great that the empire's payin' for this, but why didn't ya just take Estelle's offer to move yer stuff inta Zaphias? You'd see her a lot more, and it's not like there's not enough space ta get away from the other mages." He gestured with the bowl. "We coulda set up shop anywhere in the palace or the city, and had people around ta help cook an' get supplies."

Rita unwrapped another bundle of glass jars and picked up the blackberry jam. "Not far enough away from the mages. They'd be snooping around and bugging me and 'offering to help' every couple of days at the least. No thanks." She pulled out a drawer, rummaging for a knife amidst piles of kitchen gadgets left by the previous tenant. "Besides, you hate it there."

Raven paused, nut halfway to his mouth. "I wha?"

"When was the last time you got a good look at Schwann in the mirror? I've seen people on fire who looked happier with themselves." The jam jar's lid was sticking. Rita set the knife down, tucked the jar between her knees, and twisted hard with both hands. "I'm not a doctor, but I'd think staying somewhere that stresses you out has to be bad for a heart patient. You'd have to try pretty hard to be that miserable here."

"Hm." Absently, he tried to take the jar, which came unstuck even as she snatched it out of his reach. Raven sat back and waggled his fingers in triumph. "Ha ha! Ya see? Magic hands!"

"Idiot," Rita muttered. She flung the lid away, retrieved the knife, and carved a delicate half circle out of the jam, popping it right into her mouth. After another second, she looked up and misinterpreted his stare: "What? I like this stuff."

"It's not that I hate bein' in Zaphias, really," he said slowly. His chest was feeling tighter by the minute. He closed his eyes, reaching for happy thoughts. "I enjoyed the dance, didn't I?"

A drawer slammed. "That was different." Was it his imagination, or could he actually hear her going red?

Curiosity made him open an eye as she dug into the jar again. Pink. Close enough. A corner of his mouth lifted. "Different how?"

"Shut up. That's how." She turned to grab two cups from another cabinet. "You were pretending not to be an idiot, for one. If it wasn't for the second dance, I might've bought it."

"Hey! That hurts," Raven moaned. It really did. He leaned forward, hand to his chest. "What about the second dance? I thought ya had a nice time, too."

Rita kept her back to him, pouring milk into both cups, though he _knew_ she knew he didn't like the stuff. "Where do I start?" She plunked one down in front of him without turning. "The part where you had an attack and kept dancing anyway, or the part where you tricked me into thinking you would stay out of the tournament?"

Raven pulled himself upright. "A few seconds of coughin' is hardly an 'attack,' thanks. And I don't think you appreciate how hard it is fer a Captain ta tell everyone he can't be a Captain today, sorry, he doesn't feel good." The cup was too cold, even if he'd liked milk. …Which he didn't. Why did his only hope have to be this stupidly brilliant girl? "It was just crappy luck I went woozy at the wrong second and got knocked off—"

"Wrong!" Rita was in front of him and gripping his shirt so fast that he nearly bit his tongue. "It's not crappy luck to know you're not well and go out playing war games anyway, you moron! It's total lack of consideration for your life or other people's feelings!" She shook him like a rag doll.

This wasn't fair; he'd thought they were past this part. Raven swallowed with difficulty. "I—"

"Do you think any of us enjoyed sitting there and wondering if you'd make it through the whole thing without humiliating yourself or _dying_? And then what happened?!"

Dangling half out of his chair and inches from green-eyed death, Raven's first thought was: I'll be damned. She does care.

His second thought, on the heels of a sudden and purely physical impression: If I kissed her right now, would she kill me all at once, or make it last?

Third: …Huh. Guess the dance wasn't a fluke after all. Well, congrats, old man, you made it all the way to 37 without lusting after anyone young enough to be your kid. Now what?

"'m sorry," he managed, twisting away from her in apprehension. Right on cue, his chest gave a warning twinge. "It was stupid, you're right, put me down, please?"

"Fine!" Rita threw him back into the chair. "If I live to be five times your age, I still won't know why I ever bothered with you!"

Raven couldn't answer, as he was in the throes of two epiphanies, so close that he'd only sort them out in retrospect: one, that murderous rage can be remarkably attractive when it's both for and _at _you, whether you like it or not; two, it is possible to care about this kind of thing when you're in the process of losing consciousness.

Luckily, that kind of thing stops entirely when you black out.

* * *

This was not the first time Rita had ever knocked someone unconscious; it wasn't even the first time she'd done it without meaning to. In fact, as Raven's eyes went from panicky to half-closed and he suddenly slumped in his chair, she immediately recognized what was happening. "Old man?" Rita shook his shoulder. "Old man! Can you hear me?"

His head listed to one side, but that was all the answer she got. Anger dissolved into panic, but only for a moment, till experience took over: first, she had to make sure he was really out, and, if so, still alive. A corpse and a convincing faker looked a lot alike till you checked for a pulse.

…She was _not _used to going weak-kneed with relief when she found one, though. Rita made herself take a few deep breaths before she let go of his throat. His eyes were still half open, which would've encouraged her had it not looked so damn creepy.

Okay. Alive, but probably not conscious. To be sure, the mage kicked one chair leg around till he was wedged against the table, then smacked his cheek with the back of her hand. "Hey. Raven. Wake up." Smack. Smack smack. On impulse, she turned her head and said loudly, "Judith! Put your clothes back on!" Nothing.

Rita chewed her lip in agitation. He really was out cold. Dammit, why had she—

No, no time for that. There were no mages to boss around here, so Rita decided to skip a couple of steps: she fairly tore his coat and shirt off, tossing the former aside, tugging the shirttails out of his belt, and ripping the rest of the loose garment away from his chest. Dimly, she heard buttons skittering across the floor, but embarrassment would have to wait; she was only thinking of the blastia, whose swirling bluish light didn't look so strong or steady as she remembered. In fact, it was downright feeble.

After a moment, though, the flickering actually made her feel a bit better. If it was out of juice, she reasoned, all she had to do was give it more, right?

Hedging her bets, Rita selected the smaller of Undine's crystals from her pocket, paired it with another charged stone, and gave the metal a quick, hard, two-pointed jab.

_Ping _was not the sound she'd expected, but it was what she got, plus a few sparks. She watched his face expectantly: no reaction. "Come on," she muttered, shaking his shoulder hard, then harder. "Come on, old man, come _on_…"

He wasn't moving, once she released him. It had worked instantly last time, dammit! Rita seized him again under the jaw and felt the same unsteady flutter beneath her fingers. That was something.

Was he breathing? …A little, barely; a thin film of clammy sweat already coated most of the skin she could see, which was quite a bit.

Don't think of that, Rita snapped at herself. She had to think rationally.

And once she did, it became clear: a huge amount of electricity had resuscitated him last time, while a little of Undine's power restored the blastia. He and his heart were basically functioning now, however poorly, so if she adjusted the balance…

Her own pulse was hammering in her ears. Rita flexed her skinny fingers around the crystals, whose energy couldn't be all gone from one brief contact. She closed her eyes, pulled her goggles down, and listened carefully to her heartbeat, imagining it slowing to a strong, even rhythm. It was a calming trick that'd worked all her life, as it did now; in a moment, she could open her eyes, exhaling slowly, and focus.

Hands steady, Rita lowered the blue-green crystal till the very tip rested against the metal. Undine's power hummed a little at the touch – she managed not to drop it in surprise – and then flared to eye-watering brightness as she tapped the contact point with the other stone, once, twice, again.

The light winked out and in, out and in, mimicking a heart's cadence in the measured taps. Sparks flew; the spirit's crystal hummed acknowledgment at every beat; her hands began to sting—and on the seventh or eighth tap, she heard a soft, creaking groan.

"Raven!" The mage flung the crystals aside, shoved her goggles up, and barely caught him as he stirred, threatening to overbalance off the chair. "Old man! Are you awake? I—_hey_!" This last was involuntary as his head crashed into her shoulder. Raven was somewhere between sleep and half-consciousness: his butt was still seated, but most of his weight now rested squarely on Rita's doubled-up frame. If she moved, he'd hit the floor. "Dammit, old man! Wake up!"

He made a vaguely whiny noise. His hand came up, patted her once on the head, and dropped. That was all.

"You…!" A surge of suppressed fear, frustration, and anger welled up, giving her most of the strength she needed to shove him back into his seat. Raven stirred again, then slouched against the table, already falling back to sleep. Had he woken up at all, she wondered irritably? Or was his strength just completely gone?

Rubbing her shoulder, the mage stood up, hands still aching as they curled into fists. If he could hear her, a favorite phrase of Karol's would sum up all of her feelings nicely: "You _suck_!"

"Only on weekends," Raven said loudly – eyes closed – and began to topple sideways.

"Moron!" Rita reflexively tried to grab his shirt, realized her mistake, and had to duck and catch him on her shoulder again before he could hurt himself. "Are you awake or not?" she grunted, legs trembling with the effort to keep him up.

A gentle snore against her ear was all the answer she needed. Raven was a goofy bastard sometimes, but this was taking it a little far.

Sweating, aching all over, Rita somehow managed to shift their weight, angle her foot around the table to snag his discarded coat, and ease him down onto it with only a couple of bumps. It was remarkable how much skin a shirtless person had, she thought distractedly, working at top speed to arrange the material between Raven and the cold kitchen tiles. One thing to see it in the course of a scientific lifesaving operation for science, another to have it draped across you like a damp, half-naked fur coat—there!

More self-awareness came back to her as Rita glanced around for something that might serve as a pillow. His shirt lay in a corner; she shook it out and discovered that most of the buttons had been torn off. Moreover, it _looked _like the buttons had been torn off. What Raven would have to say about that, she couldn't stand to think for more than a second or two.

But that was a Later problem. At least the blastia looked healthy, judging by the brightness and speed with which the light was shining. Now Rita had to put him somewhere he could properly rest. The living room couch, maybe?

No. Last night, he'd been trailing off the ends like an overgrown weed. She usually had to curl up to stay on it herself.

That left the living room floor, which was hardwood and not much warmer or softer than in here: no.

The guest room upstairs? That was a no-brainer. A bed would be a far better idea for a sick old guy than the floor; if only it wasn't up the stairs…

The coat made a decent sleigh for getting him over tile and level floorboards, she found, but there was no way she was going to be able to pull him upstairs. Muscle was heavier than fat, Rita suddenly recalled from an old science textbook, which explained his weight; as she contemplated her options at the foot of the stairs, the mage folded her arms, stared at his sleeping form, and observed – scientifically – that there was no getting around it, that was some pretty well-defined muscle.

Science was embarrassing her. Rita mentally backed away from that subject and poked the bundled shirt more comfortably under his head. As an afterthought, she dug around in his thick hair and found it was tied with a leather thong worn nearly black with age, or use, or both. She couldn't remember if the usual comforts to a sick person – loosening clothing, finding a pillow, staring, and so on – included hair, or if Raven would mind, but…augh, she was suddenly looking at Schwann.

Why was that so much worse?

In sudden confusion, Rita got up, put the thong in her pocket, and went upstairs to her lab. She didn't know what she was going to do, but whatever the solution was, she'd find it by looking up there, not sitting with a dying Knight.


	5. Chapter 5

**V.**

Horrible pain in his chest greeted Raven before he could even get his eyes open. "Unnngh," he muttered back at it.

The pain responded in kind. Searching for something else to talk to, he cracked an eye as other sensations crept in around the burning ache: it was late afternoon, judging by the sunbeams slanting across the foot of the bed. He was shirtless, propped up comfortably, and – he peered downward – the proud owner of another scorch mark on his blastia's metal.

Raven closed his eye and exhaled slowly. Well, that explained why it hurt like hell to breathe. Far be it for him to get picky with the service around here, but couldn't she do anything to him that didn't involve combustion?

The door slammed downstairs. Light, rapid footsteps trailed up to the room; when the bedroom door didn't open, he tried to sit back up. "Hello?"

The knob rattled. A goggle-topped head poked in. "You're not dead. Hm." Dressed in her yukata, tank top, and shorts, Rita pushed the door wide open and dropped a pack of odd-shaped things by the foot of the bed. "How're you feeling?"

"Awful." So much for concern. Ah, well, this was probably better than murderous rage, though he did miss that personal touch. …Of concern. What the hell was he thinking?

She bent to scratch at her bare leg, the sand on which indicated she had been out and about for a while. "Not surprised to hear it. I had to use one of Undine's crystals to keep you going." Out of the pack came a long black cord, which Rita deftly unwound and smoothed between her fingers. "Congratulations, you're getting some new jewelry."

"Thanks, I guess," he murmured, watching her take a blue-green crystal from her pocket and begin wrapping the cord around it. "It even matches my eyes."

"No, it doesn't." Rita pulled the cord taut, knotted the ends, and tossed it into his lap. "Keep this on for a while. It might come in handy if something else happens."

He looped it over his head and studied the makeshift pendant's surface. Its color was a little brighter than the pale light emanating from his chest, and much nicer than the old red glare. "What did happen to me just now? Or whenever that was?"

"You passed out about…" She checked the clock. "Four or five hours ago." Rita began digging through the bag again. "Kenneth couldn't find everything today, but I did get some books that might help. And…" A small bottle suddenly landed between his knees. "Ever taken these?"

Raven thought he recognized the yellowish glass. The pills looked familiar, too. "Nah. What're they for?"

"Sleeping pills. You'll need 'em pretty soon," she said shortly. That was his first warning; as he looked up, Raven saw her avert her gaze. "It'll just be a little easier for you to get some rest with a couple in your system. The doctor said they're safe in small doses."

For all her remarkable intellectual faculties, Rita was still incapable of hiding a damn thing. Raven leaned forward, setting the bottle on the dresser with exaggerated care, and looked right at her. "What are they really for, Rita?"

She took a deep breath. "As far as I can tell, the blastia's exterior is wrecked. The metal has to come off for repair, and I have to see exactly what Alexei did to you to figure out how to fix it, or you're going to die in…maybe a couple of days, a week, tops." To her credit, she straightened up and looked right back at him. "I need you to tell me everything you remember about the…the procedure, and then I need you to sleep for a while. Pills are just quicker than beating you senseless."

Raven was momentarily sure his ears had stopped working, too. "So…" He glared at the pill bottle, as if it could help him make sense of this. "So you're going to figure out how to open the blastia, discern how my heart was replaced with an entire set of manmade materials that won't work in their current form _even if_ you knew what they were, then fix it, replace everything, and call it a day—tonight?"

He expected an explosion, and got a lopsided smirk. "Well, first I'm running an experiment on the effects of follicular restraint on speech patterns in the elderly. But now that's done."

Raven stared at her, baffled. She rolled her eyes. "You talk better with your hair down! Here you go, Schwann." Stepping up to the side of the bed, Rita fished the old leather thong out of her pocket and held it out to him. "Or don't."

It took a second to think of what he'd said, and another to pat the back of his head. Then Raven nearly snatched the thong out of her hand, speedily retying his ponytail. "Cute. _Real _cute. Are ya done playin', or are ya gonna answer me, short stuff?"

Rita crossed her arms. "Yes and no." He didn't know whether to be more apprehensive about that, or how she climbed up on the bed and sat cross-legged next to his feet, sunlight striping her lap. "I'm not doing it tonight. With that other crystal around as backup, I think I have time to read up on most of what I'll need to know and still get some sleep before I start, probably tomorrow afternoon."

That wasn't reassuring, either. "Gotcha," he muttered.

She rested one elbow in her other hand, tapping her head as she always did while thinking. "I paid a healer to stick around tomorrow where Kenneth can go get him in a few minutes, just in case you start bleeding to death. Depending on how the metal is—"

"What, yer really gonna operate? Alone, mostly?" Raven searched her face for doubt, worry, any sign of sanity; there was only thoughtful confidence. "Rita, yer not trained ta do anythin'…like…" He faltered under her patient stare. "Like crackin' open the only guy alive without a real heart. Ya got a point. But—"

"My dad left us right after I was born," Rita said. Raven's brow furrowed as she leaned forward, arms recrossed. "My mom died a few years later. I don't even remember what her name was, or what she looked like.

"When I was ten, I read about fire magic in a library book, and three days later I was halfway back to Aspio, all by myself, on foot. And you know what, old man? I got there safe." She waggled her hand deprecatingly. "Hungry, and blistered to hell, and a monster ate my hat. But I did it, and everyone since then who's ever told me I couldn't do anything has been wrong. If I can't fix you, no one can."

The sunlight was flickering as seabirds passed outside. "I know," Raven said, bemused. "I've seen what you can do. An' I trust you. That's not it at all."

She smoothed her hair behind her ears. "Well, I—hey!" His foot had suddenly jabbed her in the knee, making her jump halfway off the bed. "What was that for?!"

"Just wanted to. Ow!" Raven rubbed his leg. How many bruises had she given him since they first met? "Look, this is pretty damn sudden. A week ago, I was feelin' a little wobbly, and now ya say I either get cracked open tomorrow or I'm dead. Ya sure there's not another couple of days or so fer…fer brushin' up on open-heart surgery?" He had to smile: with Rita concerned, that was only a mildly ridiculous thing to say.

"Of course I'm sure." Rita rearranged herself so that his feet couldn't reach her without getting out from under the covers. "A week ago, not only were you probably worse than you thought, but you were feeling the effects of months of untreated wear and tear. Now you're feeling the effects of having everything partially ripped out. It's like your life was water in an old bottle, but now there's a leak, and we can't just keep dumping more water in it. See what I mean?" He nodded dutifully. "You might have an okay day or two left, but I'd rather not wait till your strength's all gone to work on things. It's incredible that you're still alive at all."

"Tell me about it," Raven said, more bitterly than he'd meant to.

"Oh, don't start that again," she snapped. "Do you really want it fixed it or not, old man?"

Raven scratched at his ear, giving her a sardonic smile. "Like I said, I wouldn't be here if I didn't wanna be."

"Yeah, and I still don't believe you." Rita slid off the bed, crouching to dig in her pack again. "But if there's anything useful I can find out before you manage to kill yourself, I don't see why I shouldn't."

He stiffened. "Well, way ta make me see the light, Rita darlin'. Did ya learn those sterlin' social skills from a library book, too? Or d'you think it might be genetic?"

"People taught me you can't make anyone care about things if they don't want to, and you'll just hurt yourself trying," she said coldly. "So I spent my time with blastia instead. Laugh if you want, but that's what's saving your life now." The mage stood with a sheaf of papers in hand. "And if _you_ don't care about your life, some people do, so suck it up and tell me what Alexei did to you. There are a few hints in his notes, but not much I can be sure of."

He stared at the papers. "Do you?"

"Do I what?" Rita shifted her weight to scratch her leg again.

Raven almost took it back, then figured, why not? "Care about my life. 'Sides the whole scientific progress thing."

A couple of years passed as Rita sized him up. "Yeah. I do. Which makes it pretty sad that you don't. Did I mention you're an idiot?" She plopped back onto the bed and thumped his knee with the rolled-up papers. "Quit putting me off, old man. What do you remember about how you got your 'cursed' body?"

The scorch mark on his chest throbbed anew. He grimaced, shifting his weight to let the metal rest a bit more comfortably. "I thought you were allergic ta comin' out and sayin' that kinda thing. Where'd this come from?"

"Oh, for…you did ask, for one thing," she said testily, and jabbed his knee again to make him look at her. "I'll make you a deal, Raven: you tell me everything you can remember about what happened, and I'll make up some nice fluffy reasons why life is great and you should totally give it a third or fourth chance. Okay? You go first." Her arms folded to indicate that the deal was final.

"But I don't remember that much," Raven protested. Her lips pressed into a thin line, at which he gave up. "See, one minute I was runnin' around the battlefield, tryin' ta get my lieutenant's attention with a scoutin' report. Then it felt like a horse kicked me in the chest."

Their eyes both went to his blastia and its recent scars. "Go on," Rita urged him.

Raven sighed, drumming his fingers on the dented surface. "Pretty sure I got hit with a crossbow, one of the big ones, right where it counts. It broke my ribs, went right out the other side. I could feel it right up till I died." He shuddered. Only Rita's encouraging glare could make him continue. "Ya gotta understand, I don't tell this story at parties much anymore. It upsets people."

She nodded impatiently, but her demeanor softened. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Any details might help."

Seagulls shrieked outside. He shifted again to sit up against the headboard. At least it was warm in here. "So I woke up…I think it was that evenin', in an abandoned Krityan house. I was stiff as hell, freezin', scared ta death."

"This was on Mt. Temza?" Rita's eyes widened. "Never mind. Keep going?"

For over ten years, Raven had wondered, idly, how best to describe the sensation of waking up from death and discovering part of you will never come back. This was the first time he'd ever get to do so. What to say? What to leave out?

Clinical details, in. Smells, sensations, screaming…out. "Alexei had some kinda tube down my throat. I was chained to a table, and one was back 'round my chin, so I couldn't look down. But I felt this burnin' pressure right here…" He rapped his knuckles on the blastia. "Then Alexei said somethin', and I…" Raven gazed at the ceiling. How much elaboration could she really need? "I kinda lost it."

"After a little thing like being brought back from the dead?" Rita shook her head in mock disgust. "You sissy."

He managed the ghost of a chuckle. "Right?" Risking a look at her paid off: maybe it was wooziness or years of suppressed horror coloring his vision, but Rita seemed genuinely sympathetic – in her own prickly little way, without burdening him with overt pity or horror – and Raven wasn't ashamed to soak it up for a few seconds.

"Anyway…" Shaking himself, Raven closed his eyes, running a callused palm down each leg. "It took forever ta get warm again. Alexei said he'd had a mage ice me down ta keep my brain from dyin', even apologized fer that." Raven snorted, not hiding the bitterness now. "He figured I'd be happy ta hop outta the grave ta do his dirty work, but he was sorry ta make me chilly in the meantime. Wasn't that nice?"

"He was a horrible bastard and I'm glad he's dead," Rita said curtly.

"Me, too, Rita darlin'. Me too." Raven tried to clear his throat, coughing a few times. "Damn. Could I—?"

The mage was up and out of the room before he could finish, returning momentarily with a glass of cool water. To his surprise, she kept a hand on it as he drank, tipping it back before he could spill any on the end of another cough; from where he sat and she stood, they were almost the same height. "Thanks," he said, wiping his forehead again, and peeked at her under his wrist. "You're cute when you're considerate."

"Shut up. It'd be a pain if you aspirated some and got pneumonia." But it was clearly an automatic response; Rita didn't even give him a warning before she picked up his other hand, settled her fingers on his wrist, and looked at the clock in absent-minded concentration. "And stay shut up for a minute. …Man, your pulse is weak."

Raven was obediently quiet. It was a minute to stare at her consequence-free, and he thought he'd need more time than that to think anyway. He couldn't tell what made the least sense—that he was trying not to be attracted to one of the youngest and unpleasantest girls he knew, or that it should hit now, or that this should occupy him more than the prospect of being…well, more in death's lap than at its doorstep.

He'd already been dead once, though. The prospect of going back was hardly excuse for his libido to go cradle-robbing.

"I have a shocking new conclusion: your heart's not working that well." Thoughtfully, Rita released him and picked the papers up, shuffling through them two at a time. "Sorry, but there's a couple more things I need to know. Were you coughing for very long after Alexei woke you up?"

"Nah, not at all. Only when he yanked out the tube." His throat itched just thinking of the damn thing. "Why'm I doin' that now, anyway?"

"It's called pulmonary edema. Fluid in the lungs. Exchanging it's another job that your heart isn't doing right. So it just started recently…"

"Yep."

She squinted at one sheet. "Bastard. These sketches are really amazing. I don't know how long he must've worked on this. You wouldn't believe how many arteries go in and out of the heart and lungs and back—he had to have planned this procedure way the hell in advance. And what was he thinking, trying this with a human?" Rita looked up at him, almost in accusation. "Much less in a war over the use of blastia? He had to know most people wouldn't accept this. If the Entelexeia ever found out…"

"If I was lucky, they'd'a just killed me. Good luck keepin' any of 'em on our side, either." Raven's mind reeled in newfound awe at Alexei's ruthlessness. "In advance, huh? I wonder if he had someone hit me on purpose so he could try it out. No tellin' how many other guinea pigs he helped himself to on the battlefield, either."

Rita flipped back through the papers, evidently pausing at a familiar line, and bit her lip. "I…I think you were the third or fourth."

"Shit." Raven massaged his face with both hands. "Can I have my fluffy reasons now?"

"Hold on just a minute," she said, and seated herself at arm's length on the edge of the bed. "Think about it—if Flynn said Witcher couldn't find anything useful in these notes, why do you think he gave them to me anyway?"

He thought about it, but could only tell she was outgrowing her spa outfit, which hadn't covered much to begin with. This didn't look sexy so much as endearing, a distinction that heartened him somewhat.

Turning his attention back to her question, though, gave Raven another headache. "Ta keep anyone else from figurin' anything out, and 'cause you're way smarter than that weird kid mage?" he finally hazarded.

"Bingo. If I didn't know these were supposed to be arteries, I'd think I was looking at a set of plans for a self-sustained aque blastia network. The notes even refer to water instead of blood." With one bare foot, Rita hooked the bag's strap off the floor and lifted it to where she could dig out a thick book, pages clearly marked by a long, two-pronged object stuck between them. "When I compared them to the anatomy of a normal heart, it made a bizarre kind of sense. If I'm right, he somehow managed to replicate everything fairly closely, without your body rejecting the new materials."

"Huh." Raven's temples were now pounding softly, but it seemed rude not to feign some interest. This was important, after all.

Rita carefully laid the notes inside the book, picking up the other object. "I got a stethoscope, too. It'll be better going in if we can find specific trouble spots with this."

He decided not to ask what they'd do if the specific trouble spot turned out to be the whole thing, and just nodded.

If she noticed his lack of attention, she didn't let on. "There are lots of different ways the heart can get messed up, so knowing in advance which parts are failing will give us a much, much better chance of fixing it on the first try." The book closed with a heavy thump. "Once you're stronger, we can figure out if and when to replace the rest, as opposed to digging everything out and putting in a whole new thingamabob all at once."

"Watch the technical jargon," Raven said, straight-faced.

"Shut up. And just so we're clear, you're officially banned from 'playing doctor' jokes, old man." Rita tapped his shoulder hard with the stethoscope. "Now, I'm pretty sure the…well, the equivalent of your left ventricle is the biggest problem. If it was the right, you'd have swelling and liver pain."

"Sounds like fun." He glanced down, in case either symptom should pop up without his having noticed yet.

She shook her head and looped the instrument around her neck, fiddling with its single end. "I'm not trained to diagnose much of anything this way, but I got the doctor to walk me through normal heart sounds and what to expect if I'm right about your condition…well, again, what it'd sound like if you had a normal heart." The disc came up in her hand. "I still won't know for sure till I compare what's actually inside you to Alexei's notes, but—"

Raven edged away from her. It was stupid, but he couldn't help feeling suddenly…exposed. "What, now? Do ya have to?"

"Have to?" The mage's brows drew together like thunderclouds. "Old man, how many times do I have to explain—"

"Not the openin'-up thing." He made an exaggerated gesture, as if pulling apart crab legs. "That part should be easy with the ribs already gone. Hell, there won't even be any cuttin'." …Damn, she did look cute with the thing on. But he had to focus. "What I mean is, do ya hafta listen in on it first? Ya sound pretty sure where the problem is, symptoms an' all."

Rita stared at him as if he'd spontaneously grown another head. "It's okay that I plan to take you apart, rearrange your heart and put you back together, but you're shy about me hearingit? Where the hell did this come from?"

"Oh, c'mon," he groaned, sliding away down the headboard. "I got no heart, fer crap's sake. Can't I have just a coupla endearing quirks here 'n there?"

"No," she said bluntly, and rose to her knees. "Now hold still."

Crap. He edged further away and tried again: "Well, how do ya think I feel 'bout all this? I'm all weak an' crap, and I even got stripped down without bein' awake ta enjoy it. Gimme some privacy somewhere, huh?" He waggled his eyebrows, then put up an arm to block, but Rita didn't move to hit him. She wasn't even blushing, he saw with disappointment, just glaring.

Raven sighed harshly. "All right. It sounds so freaky that I don't even like the thought of anyone else listenin'. Ya happy?"

Her mouth quirked. "Something like that. Now—"

He dodged, but she was faster; a fist on his opposite shoulder pinned him long enough for her to whip the stethoscope around and plant it right on his chest. He cringed as Rita adjusted it and listened for a long, blank-faced couple of seconds. "…Huh."

"Yeah, yeah." Raven coughed again, acutely uncomfortable in every sense of the word. She was leaning _right_ over him. "Hurry it up, willya?"

"The longer you talk, the longer I take," she said sweetly, moving the stethoscope up over his sternum. Her expression was less shocked or disgusted than intrigued; he wasn't sure he liked that any better. "Wow. You sound…kind of like that hummy sound when the people above you in an inn are taking a shower. It's pretty neat."

"Glad ya like it." He tried to squirm away and got pinned again, harder. "Oww."

"Shut up. I think I'm right…" Fist on his shoulder, Rita leaned in closer, chewing her lip in concentration. "I wish I knew what the insides are made of." The scope shifted closer to the blastia's center. She sighed, stirring Raven's bangs with faintly potato-scented breath. "Dammit, there it is. I was hoping I wouldn't have to mess with the aorta. That's the biggest artery in the whole body, and the left ventricle's attached to it. Maybe I should chill you, too, I wouldn't have thought of that…"

"Pretty sure Alexei killed the mage who did it, so I can't help ya there." Nearly prone, Raven eyed the two prongs disappearing into her hair. "My turn next?"

"Hm? Oh. Sure." Rita pushed herself back, removed the earpieces, and handed them over, keeping the end over his chest. "See, right there you can hear a sort of click in the middle of the plumbing noises. The doctor said it'd be more like a—"

"Nuh-uh," Raven cut in. When she looked puzzled, he took the stethoscope's end from under her fingers. "Where would it go on a normal heart, like yours?"

"Normally?" She glanced down and tapped a spot near her left breast. "I think you'd put it about here. Why?"

"No reason. Hold still." And Raven delicately but firmly set the end over her heart.

"H-hey!" Rita jerked away, catching herself with one hand; he lay still, eyes on the bedspread, only his fingertips keeping the instrument in place. "What the hell do you think you're—"

"Shush. Can't hear," he said virtuously.

She glared, and trembled a little, but she stayed.

He'd expected to get the crap beaten out of him, so he didn't pay proper attention at first. As surprise gave way to wonder, though, the thick, rapid beats seemed to grow louder, till the sound echoed and broke like waves against the inside of his skull.

Though he could feel the vibrations in his fingers, it was his chest that really felt funny, as if the blastia was trying to imitate the sound his body knew should be there. It was dumb to have forgotten what a heartbeat sounded like. You didn't have life without a heartbeat. But here he was, lifeless, and she—

Raven dropped his hand and unplunked the earphones, letting out a shaky breath. "Thanks."

Rita scowled at him, sliding back till she was standing, hands on hips. "What was that all about?"

"It's been too long since I heard one of those," he explained.

She folded her arms. "And?"

"Hmmm." Raven propped himself up on one elbow and dangled the stethoscope at arm's length toward the ceiling, watching the end swing back and forth. He'd just let the silence thicken…

* * *

…till Rita leapt forward and snatched the disc right out of the air. "So it's okay to just go ahead and do that without even asking?!" She had to brace her legs and free hand to stop shaking. "That's the creepiest thing you've ever done!"

"I did ask if I could listen next." Raven pulled his end taut. Their gazes locked. "If it was that bad, ya coulda just moved," he said conversationally.

"Or I could just beat the crap out of you," she retorted, and for a moment, the temptation was so strong that it hurt. If she could take him by surprise again, maybe—

"Ahh, right. That's yer next step, ain't it?" One shoulder lifted. "If ya got a problem with someone, just hit 'em till they shut up. Talkin' is fer _other _people."

Rita started, then tried to shake her head clear. It just gave her a headache. "Are you nuts? Don't try to change the—"

"Nope! Rita Mordio's too smart fer that," Raven said loudly, trying to wave the stethoscope for emphasis. It was creaking under the strain; she let herself be drawn a little closer as he proclaimed, "Savin' the world, dancin' like a pro, rippin' yer insides out, she can do it all!" He waggled the floppy earpieces, a silly gesture at odds with his grim expression. "Just don't ask her ta give a shit what ya want."

She'd seen that expression before, but never directed at her. Why now? And how could she make it go away? "I don't… Where the hell did this come from, old man?"

"Oh, I was just thinkin' how yer right about Zaphias, how I can't stand bein' there…" The crystal pendant clinked gently against his blastia as he sat up. "But if the Knights knew what kinda shape I was really in, even they would know better than ta keep buggin' me till I passed out, then bug me some more. Ya can't say the same, can you?"

"Wh—" Hitting him wasn't an option, so she tried to think of something suitably awful to yell back. But, the knot in her stomach reminded her, he had something like a point. He was still wrong and creepy, of course, but…but if he didn't stop glaring at her, she was going to wrest the stethoscope away and beat him senseless with it.

…No, then she'd just be proving him right. But—_damn _it, why couldn't she stop thinking in circles?

As Rita cogitated, Raven put a hand to his chin in mock puzzlement. "What? Aren't ya gonna remind me how I wound up here in the first place? Somethin' about a tournament? Ignorin' yer advice? Almost gettin' poked ta death? C'mon, don't be shy."

Anger welled up and flooded her limbs in another, more familiar wave of heat, galvanizing her brain as she pulled herself back and upright. "You're mad that I didn't take your whining seriously? That's it? And then you turn around and remind me how you lied and got yourself here in the first place?" She jabbed a finger at his blastia. "What the hell is wrong with you? When does anyone ever know whether you're being serious or not, you fucking hypocrite?"

His eyes widened. He started to say something, but Rita wasn't going to be interrupted again: "And where do you get off telling me I don't care about other people's feelings, huh?" Her arms and middle ached fiercely, but then, so did everything else. "So what if you didn't want me to hear your blastia? I'm trying to help fix it, and I didn't lie about it first, either! What was _your_ excuse?"

"My excuse?" Her heart – still pounding – did another double-thump as Raven pushed himself into his favorite bent-legged posture. "Fer what, goin' out ta joust anyway? Or fibbin' about it at the dance?"

"The dance, stupid," she snarled. "I know why you went out anyway."

Raven nodded slowly. "That so? Good. I only brought it up 'cause yer still mad about it." The stethoscope went to his other hand as he dug a finger in his ear. "Ya might be nuts, Rita, but I know you're good about lettin' a guy explain himself and get off with a couple of whacks. Why's this any different?"

Rita looked at him for a moment, thought longingly of fireballs and kicks to the groin, and made herself take a deep breath instead. "If you really thought you absolutely had to be there as a Captain," she said, "fine. That was your own dumb decision. But…" She hesitated, chewing her lip.

"But…?" he prompted.

Rita didn't let herself look away. "But I don't know why you set me up when you knew I'd find out about it in front of everyone the next day!" She tried to sound as scathing as possible, to keep her voice from shaking. "Were you hoping I'd get mad enough to go out and stop you? Or was it just for the hell of it?"

"Ahhh," Raven murmured. He tapped the side of his head with the stethoscope. "Silly ol' Raven. Shoulda known yer pride would stay hurt."

"Yeah, just a little!" Rita snapped. "And for your information, maybe I'm not just mad about that!" She swiped her hair out of her eyes so hard that she scratched her forehead. "Maybe I'm mad at myself for not seeing through your crap, hmm?"

"Mad at yerself?" He regarded her blankly. "Why? 'Cause ya didn't assume everythin' I said was a big fat lie?"

Dammit. Was she going to have to spell it out? "I mean, I spent almost a year watching you pull that lady-killer act on every girl we ever met, and I still fell for it! Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is?!"

"'Fell for it,' huh?" He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then back at her in patent disbelief. "Ya think I set the whole thing up just ta mess with you?"

"That's what I just said!" Rita crossed her arms, disc still in hand. "It's bugging the hell out of me, and I have a lot more important things to think about right now. I want to clear this up and—"

"An' what?" Raven leaned forward so suddenly that her sweaty grip finally gave way, and she cracked her shoulder falling against the bedpost. He grimaced. "Wanna know what my evil plan was? Fine. I thought ya looked nice, I wanted to dance, and then I wanted ta dance with you one more time before I got too tired. So I came up with somethin' ta distract you out of sayin' no." His eyes closed again, head drooping against the wall with a little thump. "If I'd'a known it would be this big a deal, I—"

"What did you think would happen, stupid?!" Her legs wanted to start shaking again. Rita clenched her hands around her knees and tried moving her shoulder off the bedpost. Ow.

"Go on," he said mildly, after a moment's silence.

"How did you think I'd react?" She put a hand to her forehead, and fancied she could feel her thoughts buzzing under the skin. "It was all new to me, okay? And you came up, and—my _hand _and everything, and then not only did I feel like a moron about getting tricked, you almost got killed—"

Rita stopped, mortified. This was nothing, just another stupid fight; why couldn't she explain herself? If she couldn't count on her brain, and hitting wasn't allowed, what did that leave her?

"I got some bad news for ya, Rita," Raven said. His grimness had eased into a sardonic little smile. "I think yer a teenage girl after all. Lemme guess..." He suddenly switched to an absurd falsetto. "'Ewww, I'm so hideous, no one would ever really like _me_! What's he _really _after?' Are we doin' that routine now?"

"I'm not hideous!" The mage straightened, ignoring her shoulder's complaints about everything it had – literally – had to put up with today. "I looked fantastic at the ball, thanks, and I didn't think you were making up all those compliments, it was just..."

"A lot ta deal with?" Raven waggled the stethoscope again. "Embarrassin'? Kinda fun, but mostly weird?"

"Well..." She eyed him suspiciously. He didn't seem to be making fun of her. "Yeah." Rita tucked her hair under her goggles, then turned sideways and dangled one leg over the side of the bed. "So maybe I overreacted a little. Maybe. Got it?"

"Hmmm." She didn't see his smile widen. "Makes sense. I guess ya never studied how ta handle boys noticin' you, huh?"

"Ugh. Anything sounds dumber when you say it." But her sharpness was half-hearted. Rita exhaled shortly. Now or never... "The point is, I probably should've told you all this instead of randomly yelling at you in the kitchen. I came down earlier to call a truce, not knock you right out again, and I didn't mean to upset you with the stupid stethoscope." The sun was just starting to set across the waves outside. If she squinted, she could watch the points of light ripple on the water's surface. "So. Sorry."

Raven looked at her one way. Then he tilted his head the other way. A strange, scraping noise escaped him. "That…in the kitchen. That's yer idea of a truce?" He rubbed his lip, but couldn't suppress a smirk. "Rita darlin', if I may say so, ya really, really suck at this. Don't work too hard makin' it up ta me. I don't think I could take it."

She scowled at him and got to her feet, turning with a hand on the bedpost. "You know what, Raven? I'll try to talk to you instead of yelling, but only if you'll try not to provoke me. You think you could manage that?"

He gave her a dewy, wide-eyed stare. "Provoke you? Whyever would I do that?"

"Don't give me that, old man," Rita said with warning knuckle-raps on the post. "You only yelled at me because you were upset that I've got a heartbeat and you don't. Now _that_ wasn't fair."

His grin faded. "Oh, did I?" Raven tossed the stethoscope onto the nightstand. The pill bottle went flying, landing on the carpet with its stopper just barely intact. "Well, who promised ta tell me why life's all fluffy an' great if I just spilled my guts about the worst thing I ever went through? Then ya jumped on me, probed me with strange instruments against my will—"

"That's not what happened, and you know it!" Her cheeks burned. "All right, fine, I said I'd make something up. Let me think about it first."

"Nope," the older man said severely. "Ya had plenty of time ta think about it already." He grimaced again, rubbing his neck with one hand. "No offense, but they'd probably suck anyway. No, I think I'll accept a coupla favors instead."

Checking the stopper on the pill bottle, Rita nearly dropped it again. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?!"

Raven scooted to the edge of the bed. "It means, if you were ta help me up so I could use the facilities, and see about gettin' some food up here, that'd be a nice thing ta do on my behalf. Most people call stuff like that 'fa-vors.' Ring any bells?" He pursed his lips and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Whatever else were you thinkin' of, Rita? Young minds today, I swear—"

"Shut up!" She stomped back to the bed, slammed the bottle onto the nightstand, and flung her right arm out in front of him, in easy grabbing range. "Come on, before you have an accident. Try not to lean too hard. You're way too heavyyy_ow_!"

"Sorry!" Raven snatched his hand from the grip he'd taken on her shoulder, sitting back down heavily. "Geez, that's the one ya whacked a minute ago, isn't it? Did ya make me do that on purpose?"

"No! You just distracted me for a second." Gritting her teeth, the mage turned and began easing her arms out of her yukata. "I ate a gummi before I came home, but it's not kicking in yet. See?" She poked at a reddish mark on her bare shoulder. "You fell on me earlier, too. Maybe I should just knock you out now and save myself some trouble."

Raven glanced at it, fiddling with the crystal around his neck. "Maybe you should put some clothes on," he muttered.

"Maybe you should shut the hell up!" Rita yanked the yukata back on. "Since when did you get so squeamish, you old pervert?"

"Never mind," he said peaceably, holding his hands up. "Yer house, you can go around dressed or not dressed however ya like. An' I'm sorry I fell on ya." A new thought struck him with visible force: "How'd ya get me up here, anyway? Like ya said, I'm too heavy ta lug up those stairs."

"Remember my flying machine?" Rita spun her finger like a propeller. "I strapped you into a prototype and steered you up here sideways. You're lucky it fit the stairwell, or you'd be stuck on the couch downstairs."

"Cool. Atta girl." Raven smiled. "Can I getcha ta do somethin' else fer me?"

She scowled. When was her face going to cool off? "No."

Raven nodded pleasantly. "Would ya go get my bag from downstairs? I think I can make it to the potty an' back."

The mage muttered something under her breath, but she was glad for the chance to step away from him and kick the door open. It felt like she'd been in here for hours.

"Thanks," he said behind her, and she closed the door without answering.


	6. Chapter 6

**VI.**

Estelle had always been good at reading people, and she almost never had trouble telling what Yuri was thinking. As he led her through the nobles' quarter at sunset, the princess could see he was eager to get where they were going, and trying hard to hide it; that didn't tell her much, though she was full of guesses. All he'd said was that something needed her attention—and he'd phrased it carefully, too. Hmm.

She was sure it wasn't bad, whatever it was. They had left the castle together and were walking through the streets unescorted, though nobles and Knights occasionally bowed or saluted or whispered to each other as they passed. What got her hopes up, besides Yuri's too-casual answers to her questions, was that their friends were evidently in on it, because they had all urged her to go take care of things without them.

Hmmmm. Estelle watched Yuri's back as they crossed a low bridge, and wondered. Her birthday was coming up fast. If he was going to give her something, it surely couldn't be here; this was one of the most expensive blocks of the city. He was heading for a mansion she knew, owned by the Deitch family.

And Yuri wasn't going for the service entrance, either: he strode right up the drive, stepped up to the front door, and banged on it with his scabbard. "Hey! It's me and the Princess! Open up!"

Estelle shook her head in exasperation. "Yuri!" she hissed. "That's not how—"

"It worked last time, and you weren't even here. See?" Yuri indicated the guards emerging from the shrubbery on either side of the door's flanking marble columns. "Hey, guys. Have a nice break?"

"Yuri Lowell," one of them said cautiously. Then, "Lady Estellise!" They both bowed hastily, tugging at their uniforms; judging by the grass stains, they had been napping between the bushes and the side of the house. "You are here to see the—"

"Get us inside, would you?" Yuri cut in.

"Of course. We remember your…arrangement," the smaller one said, and leaned over to knock on the door in a peculiar pattern of short and long raps.

Almost immediately, a crack of light showed around the doorframe. "May I help you?" asked a long-suffering voice from within.

"Yeah, let us in," Yuri retorted. "Don't make the lady wait."

The door swung wide open. A skinny little man in a sharp-pressed uniform gave each of them an appraising look. "Welcome. Please come this way, Princess," he said stiffly, and turned on his heel. "My lord shall be down shortly."

"Thank you," Estelle said automatically, and stepped inside. "What in the world...?" she whispered to Yuri as they walked into the bright, sweet-smelling foyer.

"We don't need to talk to him," Yuri told the butler, then indicated one of several smaller hallways branching off the huge entrance hall. "I remember where it is. Corine's here, isn't she?"

"Y-Yes, but—wait!" The butler rushed after him. "This is not proper, young man. I must insist—"

"If anyone else comes here to find us, let him in, okay?" Yuri brushed past the servant's attempt to bar their path. "This way, Estelle."

Estelle inclined her head to the butler, hurrying after Yuri. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "This is really rude!"

"Like I said, I came here the other day and got the okay to come back," he assured her. Judging by his smirk, he was enjoying himself immensely.

"That may be the case, but it's still not right to barge into people's houses when they're not ready to receive guests," she protested. They were walking through a small dining room that led to its own kitchen, heading into a series of interconnected storage rooms.

Yuri was too busy looking around to answer. "Thirteen, fourteen..." He stopped at a nearly-closed pantry door, frowned as if trying to remember something, and nodded. "Yeah, this is it."

"Here?" It was just another door, as far as she could see. "What are we _doing_ here, Yuri?"

"Just a little something I thought you should know about," he said, so elaborately casual that her ears pricked up. He tapped the door's handle. "Repede found it first. I think he'd agree it requires Your Majesty's immediate attention."

Estelle peered around his shoulder, acutely curious. Had she just heard something? "What? What is it?"

"See for yourself. Stay back—" Yuri pulled the door halfway open.

Collar links scraped the floor as a large dog raised her head, growling. The pile of little bodies around her came alive, breaking into a chorus of squeaking yelps.

Estelle clapped both hands to her mouth. "Ohhhhh!"

"See this? All Repede's fault," Yuri confided, grinning. "Hey, Corine. Remember me?" He crouched and put out his hand, very slowly. The dog extended her neck to sniff it, then gave him a cool look. "No, we're not gonna hurt any of them, I promise."

Estelle still couldn't bring herself to speak. She knelt, holding her hands out to the nearest puppy. It launched a wobbly-legged charge, falling into her leg and kicking the air as it gnawed her gloved fingers.

Corine got up, shedding puppies like roly-poly water droplets, and seized that one in her jaws, depositing it back in the closet with an air of finality.

"Hey, they're not going anywhere yet. Relax." The dog gave Yuri another look to let him know what she thought of that, and arranged herself comfortably around her offspring.

"How old are they?" Estelle whispered, as if she might be asked to leave for disturbing the dogs any further.

"Five weeks. They won't be ready to leave her for a little while, and then it'll take a few months for them to get big enough to keep with you." Yuri enticed the most adventurous puppy back out with a wag of his hand. "I only found out about it yesterday morning, when I got out of the palace and followed Repede down here."

She couldn't blame him for taking the opportunity to sneak out; even if she'd wanted to, the six puppies were too cute to spare any energy for anger. Two of the pups had Corine's heavy brown coat, she noted, and four were Repede's dark blue. All bore splashes of white on their heads or chests.

Something he'd said caught up with her as another puppy joined the assault on Yuri's hand. "With me?" Estelle repeated. She took in his smile, and the stare Corine kept on both of them, and sat up in excitement. "You mean—"

"Once word got out that Repede was the sire, these little guys got pretty valuable. Ah, here he is." They turned, and Repede walked into the room, stepping on and around Estelle as he stuck his nose into the closet.

Corine gave him a cursory sniff, and allowed him to inspect the puppies as they crowded around their father's legs. "She's the cook's dog, not Deitch's," Yuri continued. "But guess who wanted me to pay 5,000 Gald for one? I had to throw the word 'theft' around to shut him up."

"Yes, they belong to whoever owns their parents," Estelle agreed. "So..."

"When I told the cook, he said to pick a couple for myself." Yuri stretched his legs out, a polite distance from Corine. "I don't really want one, but I figured you might. 'Course, Corine doesn't have Repede's pedigree, but—"

"As if I cared about that," she began indignantly, and stopped: he was teasing her. "Of course I'd love one, Yuri! I'd like any of them!"

"Good, 'cause you get your pick of the litter." He twitched as an enterprising puppy somehow managed to get behind him and grab an end of his hair. "Ow!" Yuri jerked a thumb at his back. "Don't pick this one, okay?"

To their amusement, Repede came to the rescue. In one swift motion, he nosed the pup over, got ahold of it, and turned to drop it onto Estelle's lap.

"Oh!" The princess was too surprised to move, at least until her hands came back under attack. "Um..." Repede was watching her intently. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

"You've got a sick sense of humor," Yuri grumbled at the dog.

Repede gave a little woof. The puppies broke into a fresh round of yapping, and Estelle thought Corine sighed in exasperation before getting back up to reclaim her baby.

"I guess I'll take that one," Estelle said, laughing at Yuri's expression. "I don't know much about dogs, so I hope he calms down a little when he gets older."

"They usually do." Yuri raised his eyebrows as the same puppy made his way out of the closet, right back to Estelle. "See that? Hopefully, he won't be as independent as Repede. You could use a nice clingy guard dog once Ioder's been crowned and everything gets all, I dunno, official."

Estelle sighed. "You're probably right." With her birthday celebrations safely underway, the Council had resumed talking about the coronation, the details of which had been under debate for almost a year now; such minutiae as when it'd actually take place had yet to come up. Ioder had told her that he didn't mind letting them squabble, not when it gave him time to catch up on important letters or occasionally turn his brain off during slow meetings.

Thankfully, her presence wasn't required at those meetings, except on special occasions. When she was named the new Emperor's heir, it would be a different story.

She heard Yuri say something, but didn't hear till he reached over and scooped the puppy off her lap, just brushing her leg. "What's that face for?" Yuri held the tiny dog up between them and said in his best Puppy voice, "Don't worry about me, lady! My dad beat the Adephagos!"

"Yuri..." She sighed again, taking the puppy back and setting him down for Corine to grab. "Shouldn't we be getting back? The melee starts at dawn tomorrow."

"What?" Yuri frowned at her in concern. "You know I'm good at getting to sleep fast. Don't you want to stay and get chewed on? I won't do the voice again, I promise."

"It's not that." Estelle shook her head and offered him a smile. "Thank you so much for the gift. It was really thoughtful of you."

He was quiet for a moment, nudging an errant puppy back with his foot. "No problem," he said. "'Sides, I wanted a chance to talk to you without everyone in the universe staring at us and making up random crap."

"Right." Estelle winced. "I'm so sorry about that."

"Why? You didn't do anything." Yuri shifted his weight on the stone floor. "'Course, if you've thought of some way to distract 'em, I'm listening."

"I do have to get married sometime," she said lightly, as if the idea just made her feel a little wistful and not sick to her stomach. "That should put an end to it."

Yuri frowned faintly, but didn't say anything. Estelle couldn't read his expression—thoughtful?

The silence was definitely tense, so she added, "It won't be whoever wins the tournament, that's for sure."

Another, longer pause. Estelle didn't have the nerve to look at Yuri again till he made a noncommittal noise and picked up another puppy. "Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, what if Judith kicks all our asses? You think your subjects would mind a Krityan lady marrying into the royal family?"

"Yuri," she protested, but couldn't help smiling.

There went the smirk again. "What? That would be really interesting. I mean, which one of you would wear the dress at the ceremony?"

"Yuri!" Estelle tried to look stern. "That's the most ridiculous thing—"

"Leblanc _was_ speaking as Ioder's representative," Yuri pointed out, setting the puppy down. "Doesn't that make it legally binding? C'mon, Estelle, this could be your big chance. A husband who could defend you, cook all your favorite stuff, wear all the latest fashions—"

"I don't like it either, you know." The princess laced her hands together in her lap. "But it won't be for a while, not until after the Council is through planning the coronation. They need to decide on a wife for Ioder first, so..."

"So don't worry about it, Estelle. Worry about stuff you can handle now, like this guy." Yuri nodded at the crook-tailed puppy on Corine's flank. "What's his name?"

Estelle looked at Yuri, then the puppies. "Name?" She bit her lip. "I..."

"Lady Estellise!" the butler called from the passage behind them. "Lady Estellise, are you here?"

Yuri sighed heavily. "So much for talking." He got to his feet, dislodging the puppy chewing on his scabbard's straps. "Ah, well. We can come back after the tournament, right?"

"Right." She smiled, took his extended hand, and brushed dirt off her skirts. "I'll think of something by then."

"I hope so," he said. It sounded funny to her, but she couldn't be sure; Yuri didn't give her time to consider it, either, as he set off down the hall even faster than they'd come in. He guided her all the way back to the front door at a near-jog, passing the butler and a few other servants with little nods of acknowledgment.

"I hope you don't expect me to just run in and out next time," Estelle remarked, nodding to the guards as Yuri pulled the door closed behind them. "We should've at least thanked Deitch for letting us come."

"By all means, Princess, go back in," Yuri said cordially over his shoulder. "See how long you can talk to that guy without wanting to knock his teeth out. It took me about twenty seconds."

Despite herself, Estelle made a face. Lord Deitch was a notorious overtalker. "No, thanks." She followed him down the drive at a trot, so she could pretend not to hear if Deitch came out and called after them.

"Look at it this way, Estelle. Why would any noble mind you randomly dropping by their place? Think of the bragging rights." Yuri slowed to walk beside her as the crowds thinned out. "He'll probably start inviting you over every day you're in town, whether you go say hi to him or not."

"Probably," the princess agreed.

Yuri thought about it, and winced. "Sorry."

She sighed. "That's all right." Estelle moved closer and took his free arm. "Shall we?"

"Sure." Yuri's smile was strained. But after a second, he bent his elbow, resettling her hand so that he was now escorting her down the street.

She waited for him to say something else. He didn't, though.

After a minute, Estelle glanced up, and saw that he was waiting for _her_ to speak. They looked askance at each other, then laughed, and were content to walk the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

It wasn't that Raven thought Rita was lying when she told him he was in bad shape; he'd just assumed that he would be physically capable of going to the bathroom without incident.

He was wrong.

One second, he was feeling a little wobbly, but going about his business in a perfectly capable manner. Then the world went fuzzy at the edges, his knees buckled, and his stomach threatened to turn inside out, just like that.

He could hear Rita coming back up the stairs. For a moment, he debated calling for help; as another wave of dizziness hit, though, Raven found he couldn't even do that.

Luckily, the thought of her finding him not-really-clothed on the bathroom floor gave him the strength to stay upright and take deep, even breaths till the moment passed.

"You okay in there?" he heard through the door.

"Sure," Raven said weakly. He rebuckled his belt, wiped his face with a towel, and felt around for the faucet handles. Any second now, the world was going to come back into focus. ...Aaany second.

"No offense, but I'm pretty sure you're lying. I'm coming in." The door opened. He heard and felt Rita move around him. "You look like crap. How do you feel?"

"Whee," he mumbled, trying to give her a thumbs-up. Even with the sink and wall providing support, the gesture nearly made him fall over.

"For the love of—come on, old man," she snapped, taking his left wrist. With jerky but surprisingly sturdy precision, Rita ducked under his arm, got a grip on his belt, and tugged him away from the sink. "Come on. Back to bed, and you're staying there."

"Whee," said Raven again, vaguely enjoying the warm, sharp-shouldered movements against his side. Between her support and his other hand on the wall, they managed to get him to the side of the bed, where she swung around and let him fall onto the pillows with another well-placed shove. It was kind of fun—like being drunk, but with more chance of wetting himself, or waking up dead.

Rita muttered under her breath as he got comfortable. "Look at me," she ordered. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

It took a second, but Raven obediently turned his head in the right direction and blinked a couple of times. There was a girl-shaped blur by the nightstand, resolving itself into Rita as he focused for several seconds. "Two. No. Three?"

"Close enough. You can relax now." The mage waved a hand, and he let his head fall back. "I was gonna ask if you were hungry, but you don't look so hot. Do you want something to drink?"

"Not right now, thanks." He dragged another pillow under his head, grimacing as the fabric met half-dried layers of sweat on his shoulders. "Actually, I feel kinda grody. Ya think I could get a bath in sometime before ya crack me open?"

"No. The way you're going, I'd end up having to fish you out, and that's not gonna happen." Rita padded across the room, picked something up – he recognized the creaking of his travel bag's straps – and deposited it on the foot of the bed. "Here." As an afterthought, she walked back over to put his knife and unstrung bow by the nightstand. "I didn't know how much of your stuff you wanted up here," she said, a trifle defensively. "How's that?"

"Great, thanks." Raven glanced at the bag. Now that he'd let himself think about it, the cool, sticky sweat all over his skin wasn't just distracting, it was disgusting. "I know yer lookin' out fer me here, Rita, but I really wanna clean up a little. Can't I just try it?"

"You do stink," she conceded. "But you're just not well enough to leave you alone for that long, and _I'm _not going in with you. Sorry."

"Well..." Raven sat up as inspiration struck. "Say! Ya know a doctor, right? I bet he knows a couple nurses who could make a house call an' help a poor, sick ol' man get himself all soaped up and—hey, hey, I'm serious! No hitting!"

"I know you're serious, idiot!" Rita lowered the bow and dropped it back against the nightstand, hands on hips, foot tapping furiously. "That's the dumbest part!" She put a hand to her forehead. "Do you seriously think we snuck you over here just so you could let people waltz in and see your blastia? Forget it!"

He sighed and folded his legs again, soles of his feet almost flat against each other. "I know, I know. I'm not tryin' ta give you a hard time. I just..." Raven scratched his ear in frustration. His head was clearing up, but he still felt gross. "Tell ya what. Just gimme some water and somethin' ta scrub with. I'll do it myself. Ya think that'd be okay?" Her foot had stopped tapping, he noticed, which couldn't be good. "...Please?"

To his surprise, she shrugged, said, "All right," and went into the bathroom.

Raven listened warily. Water ran; cupboards rattled. Rita came back and set a shallow bowl on the nightstand, tossing a washcloth and towel onto his lap. "Make it quick."

"Sure thing." It didn't look like a trap, so he hitched himself around, reached toward the nightstand—and stopped, confused. "Um. Whatcha doin'?"

Rita had another washcloth in hand, and was already wringing it out over the bowl. When he tried to take it from her, she flicked warm water at him. "You've already got one. Turn around."

"Turn around?" Raven scooted away as she clambered onto the bed. "Wha...?"

"Turn. Around." The girl's tone spooked him into turning right around, which set the room spinning again. Her weight shifted near him, one hand touching his shoulder. "Hold still."

It was pretty obvious what she was doing, had he stopped to think about it, but he was too busy pondering the injustice of his situation—to whit, here he was, half-dressed and completely alone with an attractive girl who wasn't scared of the glowing hole in his chest...and he was afraid to turn his back on her.

That line of thought lasted right up till something warm trailed up his spine, swiping over his shoulders in short, pleasantly rough strokes. "Hold _still_," she said as he tried to twist around. "Lean forward a little."

"Uh..." The warmth pressed hard between his shoulder blades. Raven let her fold him over, elbows on knees, and tried to process the fact that Rita was now matter-of-factly rubbing the sweat off his back. "Wha?"

"I don't have a back scrubber," Rita explained. "So here's one of your stupid favors. It'll keep you from sweating through all the sheets, too." Her hand rested on his spine, knuckles not-so-subtly prodding him through the cloth. "Needless to say, if you ever refer to this in any way, ever again..." She let that hang for a moment, then flipped the washcloth and turned to dunk it in the bowl, squeezing it out one-handed.

Raven shook his head, though she wasn't looking. "Wouldn't dream of it." He didn't have to look to know she was scowling, and probably red, too; if keeping his mouth shut meant more rubbing, though, he thought he could probably stay quiet.

She switched hands and started on his lower back. Raven felt her slow, stop, and tap him with her free hand. "This is where you got hit?"

"Hit...? Ah." He'd forgotten about that spot. "Yeah, the bolt came right out around there." He moved a little, deliberately, but she didn't let go. "Why? What's up?"

"That scar's pretty gross-looking." Rita leaned in for a closer look. "At least it's small." He felt her poking around it, fingers trailing over the thickened edges. "You're lucky they missed your spine."

Raven snorted. "Yep. One lucky guy, that's me."

"Yeah, you are." The mage gave him one last swipe and placed two fingertips on the scar, moving around his side to align it with the blastia. "What were the odds you'd survive the whole process without permanent brain damage or paralysis? Then you ran into people strong enough to help you beat Alexei, one of whom was smart enough to fix your heart—how is that not lucky?" Rita glared at him and slapped the wet washcloth onto his shoulder. "I'll be back in a minute. Finish up so you can eat and I can get started."

"Started?" He raised a hand as she got up. "Hey!"

Once again, she didn't answer; the door closed behind her with a firm little click.

Water was trickling down his back and shoulder blade, but Raven barely felt it. His head was a bigger mess than usual—not surprising, really. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, taking stock of himself, barely noticing as the dizziness passed.

So. On top of coping with the idea of losing both his lives – just as he was starting to enjoy the one he'd made for himself – he had to spend what could be his last days alive with the most volatile and least sympathetic person he'd ever known. In his current condition, he really wasn't sure it would be worth it.

...Since when did Rita go around touching people, anyway?

Raven picked up the washcloth and began easing it around the corners of his blastia, where the sweat tended to collect. It was the dance's fault, or so he guessed: she'd probably figured out that short bursts of physical contact wouldn't kill her, as he'd figured out that he wasn't too old to form random and utterly inappropriate crushes.

So she'd gone ahead and done something nice for him, and he'd had to stop himself from throwing an arm around her. What was he going to do with himself?

With no one to talk to about it, he thought of a trick someone had once taught him, the same mental exercise Schwann had used to become Raven in the first place. As he wrung the cloth out, Raven methodically rifled through his mind for the parts that needed closer examination, and looked at them as though they belonged to an entirely different person.

Schwann had ferreted out all the goofy, irresponsible, careless things he'd ever thought or done, trying to reassemble half-buried bits of himself into a suitably different whole; once he knew that whole, other self well enough, he could try it on, walk around in it, and eventually become so used to it that his real self felt tight around the neck.

Now, sitting on a girl's bed with a warm washcloth under his armpit, Raven picked out the bits of recent memory that might tell him, why Rita? And why now?

It came to him in a flash, or at least the time it took to finish scrubbing. Raven had to smile at the irony. "Safe," he murmured. "Liking her is _safe_, huh? Stupid old man."

But it was true, he realized, in terms of age and angriness and sheer incompatibility: when he'd singled Rita out to dance a second time, he couldn't have picked a girl less likely to reciprocate any romantic feelings he might have had for her, however shallow, if he had set out to do just that.

She might save him, but she really just might kill him, too. It probably didn't speak well of him that that was attractive right now, but there it was.

Raven sighed noisily, and tried not to cough.

The longer he spent around her, the longer he would have to dwell on it. All he had to do was either die and get it over with, or behave himself long enough to get away from her intact. Then he could go back to Dahngrest and spend a few weeks reacquainting himself with the city's population of even-tempered, full-figured, over-sixteen-year-old ladies.

"Old man? You done in there?" The door opened, and Rita stepped in, carrying an overfilled tray. "Time to eat. Dry off."

"Okay," Raven said, setting the bowl and now-dirty cloths aside, and smiled as he draped the towel around his waist. "Thanks fer helpin' out. I feel a lot better."

Rita blinked a couple of times, looking so startled that he had to bite his cheeks to hold in laughter. Then she flushed, and looked away, and almost slammed the tray onto the bed. "Whatever, old man. Try not to spill anything, 'cause I'm not cleaning it up."

Raven eased back against the headboard and pulled the tray onto his lap, sneaking glances at her as she took the water back to the bathroom. This wasn't Dahngrest, and she might kill him yet; somehow, he was still okay with that.


	7. Chapter 7

**VII.**

"I hope you still like salmon, or you're out of luck," Rita said over her shoulder. She tipped the water into the sink, then turned the faucet on all the way, rinsing the bowl and washcloths in a three-second torrent. The temptation to stick her head in there and cool her face was suddenly overwhelming.

"This looks great!" Raven had just opened the box meal she'd brought up from the fridge. "I can't believe ya remembered." She walked back in to see him taking a bite of sushi and closing his eyes in utter bliss. "Mmmmm."

"That's all you ever want to eat in Capua Torim," she said disdainfully. "I still have nightmares about that day you spent whining how hungry you were before we got here."

"Can't argue. Eatin'." Raven unstopped the bottle of tea and took a long sip.

"How is it?" The mage watched him swallow and lay back against a pillow. "You don't feel nauseous, do you?"

"Nah, just tired." He picked up another piece, examining it critically. "How old is this?"

She smirked. "I got it when I was out earlier. It was still swimming this morning." A packet on one corner of the tray held a thick pita sandwich; Rita pulled it out and took a huge bite. "So there."

"You are the awesomest person that was ever an awesome person. Have I mentioned that lately?" The sushi was disappearing in rapid succession. "So, what're ya doin' after this? Pokin' around my poor ol' stinky body?"

"Taking measurements, doing some drawing," she replied, giving him the stink eye as he tried to pick up the other cup. "That's mine, thanks."

"All right! Sheesh." Raven finished the last bite and drained his tea. "How 'bout after that? We havin' a slumber party?"

Rita made a point of swallowing, and taking a drink, before she replied, "You're going to sleep once I'm done."

"Awww, that's no fun." The older man's face drooped into an expression so ludicrously despondent that her hand twitched, wanting to hit him. "Can't I stay up a while? We can fix each other's hair an' talk about boys!"

"No!" Rita pushed her hair behind her ears, leaving a smear of beef juice on her cheek. "As if either of us even knows any hairstyles. You put yours up, I hack mine off."

"Speak fer yerself," Raven said, and nodded slowly as she shook her head. "No, no, I mean it. If ya let me stay up, I can show ya how lady Knights used ta keep their hair outta the way." He half smiled, pushing the tray away. "I learned how ta do it when Casey first came up fer promotion."

"Casey?" Rita almost dropped her pita in excitement. "Do I finally get to hear that story?" she demanded.

Raven crossed his arms behind his head and tapped his feet together. "Wellll, there really ain't much ta tell." He grinned. "But I can't tell it if I'm asleep, can I?"

"Nope," she agreed, too curious to care that she was being manipulated. "A few more minutes won't hurt. Hold on, let me put this stuff up."

He nodded and pulled over his bag, rummaging through it as Rita placed the tray neatly on the floor. "Ya call that 'put up'?" he remarked. "At least finish eatin'."

"Shut up." Rita bounced onto the bed and cocked her head to watch him sort through his things. By now – or at least in this state of mind – sitting this close to him was hardly embarrassing at all. "What're you doing?"

"If ya wait five seconds, you'll see." Raven pulled out a flat, battered disc and unscrewed the lid to reveal something goopy and citrus-smelling. "See?" He held it up for her to inspect.

"Hm." She took it from him and poked a finger into it. "Yuck. What is it?"

"Whaddya mean, 'yuck'? This stuff is expensive," he said indignantly.

Rita made a face—and her eyes widened. "Hey. I know that smell." She scooped a tiny bit out and sniffed it. "You had some of this crap in your hair at the dance."

He took it back and clapped the lid on, folding his arms. "Very good, 'cept it's not crap. Casey gave it to me when she made lieutenant."

"...Oh." At a loss, Rita shrugged. "Fine, then, it's not crap. I just don't like the smell."

She thought he was going to say something really awful, by the look on his face. But he just shook his head, sighing. "One of these days, yer gonna learn ta think before ya talk." Raven made a swirling gesture. "Turn around."

"What?" It came out too loud and high-pitched; she was still unnerved. "Why?"

"I turned around when ya had somethin' ta wash my back with," he reminded the mage with sadistic cheer. "Now we're talkin' about hairstyles. Therefore..."

Rita started and shook her head, a little wildly. "I said I wanted to hear the story, not that I'd be your guinea pig! Forget it!"

"Oh, c'mon," Raven reproached her. "It's just yer head. 'Sides, this'll look good on ya. It'll only take a minute." He waved his hands at her, pitching his voice at a piercing whine: "C'mooon, this old man wants ta see it one more time before he dies. No one wears it anymore. Do ya really wanna be responsible fer the death of a fine old tradition? Huh? Huh? Do ya?"

"Okay! Fine! Just shut _up_!" Rita threw herself into a cross-legged pose, hands gripping her knees so as not to whip around and strangle him. "Hurry up and tell the damn story," she snarled.

"Temper, temper." But that was all Raven said for a moment, as he had to cough a few times. "'M fine, Rita," he said when she half turned. "Run yer hand through there a couple times, make sure there's no tangles."

She gave him another worried glance, turning back and finger-combing her hair as Raven began:

"When we weren't much older 'n you, maybe twenty or so, Casey got word that our Captain was puttin' her name up for lieutenant. Each brigade promotes from within, of course, but back then, at least one other Captain and the Commandant had ta confirm appointments." He coughed again. "She was from a long line of Knights – lieutenants, Captains, a couple Commandants, you name it – so of course everyone said her family was just pullin' strings."

"It never actually works like that," Rita said, pulling off her goggles. "You said Casey was really good, right?"

"Yeah." Though Rita was sitting still, Raven hadn't started yet. She peeked over her shoulder: he was staring at the tin of hair-stuff. "Yeah," he repeated. "She could string that thing—" He jerked his head at the white bow against the nightstand. "You wouldn't believe how fast she was unless you saw it yerself. She was really somethin' else.

"Once, we were all out training, and a huge bird came at us as we were comin' back. It was dark, but Casey got her bow up and shot that thing square in the eye while the rest of us were busy peein' our pants." Raven chuckled. "Another time, our lieutenant got knocked in the head while we were fightin' some wolves, and Casey was the one who thought ta rig an explosion and scare 'em off."

Rita tilted her head back, keenly interested. "She taught you how to do that?"

"Yep. Hold still." A firm touch on her scalp steadied her, and she went rigid as he started gathering hair in one hand. "Wow, this is shorter'n I thought. Lemme know if I'm pullin' too hard."

She nodded, flushing almost painfully as his fingers swept over her scalp. That felt...not bad. Alarmingly not bad. "S-so what's this got to do with hair?"

"Right." The mattress creaked. Even sitting down, he towered over her. "So one night, we heard that Casey's big chance was comin' up the very next mornin'," Raven continued from over her shoulder. "She went ta bed early, but we stayed up ta think of some way ta show our support.

"We couldn't wear anythin' with her name on it, and she had the same uniform as the rest of us. That didn't leave us much ta work with, but we really wanted ta think of somethin'." He'd separated a neat section near the top of her head and was easing it into three smaller sections as he talked, quite deftly for a man with such huge hands. So far, so good.

...Her face was going to melt off if this kept up much longer.

"This wormy little guy was in camp with us that night, transportin' bodhi blastia, and he heard us talkin'. Wouldn't ya know it, he had a couple older sisters, and they'd taught him how ta do hair like Casey's—the other girl in our brigade had hers cut short.

"So the next mornin', she got out there before everyone else, and the Commandant came over ta watch her call roll. We came out, and over half of us had our hair fixed like hers."

"Wasn't it against regulations to have guys with hair that long?" Rita asked, more curious than amused. "I mean, that's a braid you're doing, right?"

"Not exactly," he said, chuckling. "Back then, we were allowed ta keep it collar-length, and most guys already had it that way."

"Cute," Rita muttered. There was that sense of almost-discomfort again, except she hadn't been drinking, and the light tugs on her scalp as he wound lengths of hair around each other didn't hurt at all. She scowled at the long shadows cast on the opposite wall. "If it'd been me, I would've thought you were making fun of me."

"That's 'cause yer paranoid and emotionally stunted," Raven said, and she stiffened again. "Nah, Casey spotted it right off, and she _almost_ laughed." He chuckled again. "Then she turned right around, saluted the Commandant, said we were all present an' in order. Our Captain tried sayin' it was against regulations, and she repeated every word from the book about hair needin' ta be clean, well-kept, out of the way—nothin' in there said 'braids fer girls only.'"

"Good for her," acknowledged Rita. "Are you almost done?"

Raven coughed shortly. Then he said, all warmth gone, "Yes, I'm almost done. Thanks fer humorin' me this long."

"I'm not bored, you idiot," Rita said, stung. "I want to see what it looks like. What did Casey say after she got the promotion?"

The mattress creaked. Raven exhaled. "Just lemme tell it, will ya?"

She breathed a silent sigh of relief—not because she minded if he got upset with her, of course; she just didn't want him passing out again. "Fine."

"Anyway. She was gonna make us all wake up early the next day and go stand watch in the mud, but we told her about the hair guy, and she went off ta yell at him instead. Crap, sorry—" He'd dropped some of the smaller, finer hair as he pulled it down toward her neck.

"Well," Rita ventured, in the sudden, awkward silence, "at least it didn't backfire. Hope she gave the blastia guy a piece of her mind."

"It was Yeager," said Raven.

Her mouth fell open. "Oh," was all she could come up with.

"They talked a while, he said he'd send her a letter, I thought that was it." His grip tightened, just short of hurting her. Oddly, though, she didn't mind. "I didn't remember what he looked like, and he used a different name then. Sounded different, too. She never talked about him, just got a lot of letters and reread 'em every chance she got." There his hands went, brisk but carefully light again. "Imagine my surprise when we beat those poor kids from Leviathan's Claw and one of 'em recognized Casey's compact..."

"And you suddenly figured out this guy you hated was that one guy you'd met that one time who stole the girl you liked," Rita finished for him. She could hardly sit still for him to finish. "Holy crap, Raven. How long did you and Casey know each other? Why didn't you tell her you liked her?"

"I told you, it wasn't like that," he said wearily, tying the braid off and letting go. "There, done." Raven moved back. "Check it out."

Rita vaulted right over the foot of the bed to get to the bathroom in the least possible time. Remembering a hand mirror in the cabinet, she grabbed it, turned, and held it up, angling so she could see the back of her head in the mirror. "Wow!" Though she had resolved not to scorn Raven's efforts – whether it looked good or not – Rita was amazed to see that the ladder-step braid wasreally cute, even the stubby end. The style swept her hair neatly out of the way and reminded her of, well, necks, in that she had one. "Nice job."

"Still got it." Raven smiled at her enthusiasm. "I can teach ya how ta do it later, if ya want."

"Maybe," she said, patting the back of her head. "It could come in handy." Regretfully, the mage put the mirror back and turned on the bedroom light. "Just about time for bed now. Want some water for those pills?"

"Nah, they dissolve too fast. Water just makes 'em taste—" Raven caught her expression and had a sudden, violently fake coughing attack. "Yes, please," he croaked, segueing into a real cough as her glare hardened.

"That's pretty specific, considering you've never taken these before," she said accusingly, hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed. "Of course, not even you could possibly be stupid enough to lie to someone who's left solely responsible for your life, right? So when you said you'd never taken beautyberry extract—" Rita stalked over to the bottle, rattling it hard enough to make him flinch. "Of course you were thinking of some other distinctive yellow pills, right? Because _why would you lie _about it?"

"Because those things are fucking evil!" Raven held up his hands at her expression. "Ya don't understand. Alexei made me take somethin' just like that after I woke up, and I was a wreck for _weeks_ after that."

The mage scowled at the bottle, then at him. "Weeks? Are you sure? The doctor said not to give you more than two a day, every other day, 'cause they're addictive." She wrinkled her nose. "I had to tell him it was for Imperial research before he'd even give it to me."

Raven shook his head. "Sounds 'bout right. I had it mixed in my food, so I'd sleep fourteen hours, wake up with nightmares, get another one right after that—by the time I figured out why my head was such a mess, I couldn't sleep without 'em. Guess how much fun I had when Alexei just stopped it one day—I didn't wanna explain all this earlier," he said, suddenly pleading. "I just saw the bottle and thought, if that was the same thing—"

"Geez. All right already." Still angry, but shaken by his reaction, Rita went to the bathroom sink. She filled the bottle to the brim, shook up the foamy contents, and stuffed the bottle into the overflowing wastebasket. "Next time you see something that traumatized you like that, just say you've already had a bad reaction to them," she advised, and turned her attention to washing her hands, so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes in the mirror.

No answer.

When Rita had stalled in the bathroom as long as she could, she went over to the nightstand and opened its single drawer, taking out a pencil and sheets of blank paper. "Sorry, old man, but you still have to get to sleep. If you'd told me sooner, I could've gotten something else for you before the market closed."

The bed creaked. "Ya didn't hafta throw it out," he said quietly, and coughed. "But thanks."

"If you're scared to be in the same room with it, what else am I supposed to do?" Rita took the empty water glass back to the sink, taking her time refilling it. "It's not like I could've gotten my money back, either."

He didn't say anything. She bent to retrieve the anatomy textbook off the floor, placing the paper over the cover. "Don't worry about it." Rita sat down sideways to face him, glanced up—and jumped back to her feet. "What?" He was staring at her, a flat, intense look that made her scalp prickle. "You got something to say, old man?"

"Nothing that wouldn't get me killed," Raven replied, and put on a near-genuine smile. "Sorry I got all awkward on ya." He gestured with the pointy end of Undine's crystal. "Yer hair looks good."

"Y-yeah?" Still suspicious, and more than a little confused, Rita felt the end of her braid. "You're pretty good at it for someone who hasn't done it in...how many years?"

"Well." Raven folded his arms behind him and shrugged innocently. "S'not like no other girl's ever called my bluff when I said I could do her hair. Just ask Karol 'bout the last time we went out ta eat." His eyes lit up. "There was this reeeal cute waitress—"

"Don't care. You're an idiot." She took immense satisfaction in watching his face fall. "That's enough talking out of you. Sit up, straight as you can, and don't move."

"One of these days, Rita," he said dolefully, shuffling back against the headboard, "you'll wake up and realize that not once, yer whole life, did ya ever have any fun. Ya know that?"

"You're still talking, old man. Quit it." Rita moved the crystal out of the way and thumped the book across his sternum, edge almost overlapping the blastia. "Hold that, right there."

Raven did so. Rita moved the top sheet of paper over the blastia and began making faint, rough lines, sketching the device's dimensions and shape as she flipped the sheet back, forth, back again, checking her work. She scribbled a note against the book's cover, pausing to consider the depth of the huge dent near his shoulder.

"How's it look?" Raven asked.

"Bad. Now be quiet and let me think." If she was going to replace the thing, she had to start with the basics: how had it been installed?

She'd suspected for a while that the blastia's exterior was comprised of several individual pieces, not a single plate. But they hadn't been welded together; no nuts or bolts were visible anywhere on the surface. The core was attached to the exterior plates by an inner ring of metal, leading up to sturdier, overlapping rings that were anchored in his flesh by metal curls, like a sunburst—or some kind of parasite, she thought, stomach clenching.

That wouldn't do. She was here to think, not to feel sorry for him. Rita shook herself and turned her attention to one of the lowermost sunburst arms, where the metal had sunk a little deeper than the other tendrils. It looked different, probably from when the impact at the opposite end had torn it out of the skin – she shuddered at the memory – before Flynn pushed it back and Estelle's power closed the wound right over the metal edges.

Closer inspection, though, revealed nothing. There was only smooth surface, broken very faintly by...a seam?

She blinked, heart doing a double thump as she recognized the near-invisible line running down to the blastia's core. A seam! Now that she knew where to look, Rita could make out the shape of that piece, and the ones on either side, and their relationship to the core plate. "If the seams all run the same way..." she muttered, fingers trembling in excitement. "I think I got it!"

"Got it? Got what, exa—ow!" Raven narrowly missed his groin with the book's spine as Rita slammed both palms on the blastia, dug in, and wrenched his whole body sideways. "What the _hell _are you doin'?!"

"Look at this!" The mage braced the heel of her right hand and took the left away for him to see the blastia's exterior.

He made a strangled noise: though the curling ends were still attached to his skin, and the core hadn't moved under her hand, the metal surrounding it was clustered in separate, free-sliding plates, with no apparent means of reattaching them. Steady blue light from the core's underside shone through the gaps.

"That's how he did it! It fit together so well, the seams were invisible. It was flexible, sturdy, waterproof...but he could still take it apart whenever he wanted, like a puzzle!" Rita jabbed a finger at the lowest piece. "When Flynn hit you, he loosened the whole thing. No wonder it doesn't work—the pieces don't fit together anymore. Like you said, Estelle can't heal metal, so this edge stayed up where it wasn't supposed to be."

Raven didn't seem to share her enthusiasm. As she looked at him expectantly, Rita suddenly noticed the blastia's metal edges rattling together—he was shaking. "Raven? Raven!" Oh, crap, he didn't look much better than when he'd passed out earlier. "Old man! Hey! It's okay, look!" She threw her weight forward onto the inner ring, twisting the locking mechanism the other way.

It...didn't come back together. The edges grated on each other and stubbornly refused to meet, leaving half-inch gaps over the delicate equipment pumping blood through his body.

Of course. The pieces were _broken_, like she'd just said, stupid stupid—

Rita pushed, twisted, and nearly collapsed with relief as the gaps jerked shut, leaving only that tiny seam. "See? Good as new." Sweat had broken out on her forehead. She rubbed it with her sleeve, watching Raven's fast-paling face for signs of life. "Raven?"

He moved his head toward her, eyes closed. His lips moved, but all that came out was another cough.

Rita retrieved the glass of water and helped him take a few sips. The bathroom was too far, so her brain jumped to the most logical solution: she removed her yukata, slopped some water on the sleeve, and handed it to him. "Here."

"Mm." Raven took it and wiped his face off, turned the garment over, and dried himself. "Hn?" He opened his eyes, squinting at the wad of fabric. "Look at that," he croaked. "Gave me the shirt off yer back. Now that's generosity."

She caught herself smiling and tried a scowl instead. "Shut up."

Raven wrapped the yukata around the back of his neck, eyes focusing on her with evident difficulty. "So, ya know how ta fix this thing now?"

"I have a much better idea of what to do." The empty glass went back on the table. Rita made herself breathe deeply, slowing her pulse a little. "Sorry I didn't warn you first. I was so excited when I figured out how it worked—"

"It's fine, Rita," he said quietly. She flushed. "I'm guessin' ya need more notes?"

"Uh...yeah." She looked down at her legs, trying to find where the pencil had fallen.

When she looked up, Raven was staring at her shoulders. "Looks like the gummi finally kicked in," he observed.

"Yeah, an hour ago." Rita rapped his nose with the eraser. "Quit ogling me."

"But ya got nothin' on," he protested. "What else am I s'posed ta look at?"

"Anything else, you pervert!" Now that she looked at herself, though, the tank top _was_ pretty small. "Just close your eyes. I need to open your blastia again anyway."

He took her advice. This time, Rita balanced her weight carefully and slid the pieces open as delicately as possible. They came apart a little easier this time. "How's that feel?"

"I dunno. Drafty?" Raven's eyes opened briefly as she shifted against his leg for a closer look. "Ugh. No wonder he had me drugged up while he was messin' with it." He sighed. "Wish I'd'a known I could get in there."

"I doubt it would've done you much good," she said. "If he knowingly gave you medication strong enough to stop a real heart, then he was probably confident he could keep the blastia going, whether you liked it or not."

"Yer probably right." He grimaced again as the metal plates scraped each other. "That's awful. S'like nails on a chalkboard, 'cept I'm the chalkboard."

Rita felt his leg twitch with every adjustment she tried to make on the blastia. "Settle down, old man." She poked his shoulder with the pencil. "Why don't you tell me another story to keep your mind off it? You might even put yourself to sleep."

"That was mean," he complained. "But, not a bad idea. What kinda story do you wanna hear?"

"I don't care, as long as it's not boring or pervy." Rita wondered about oiling the grooves in which the edges moved, and made another note. "Just talk."

"Depends how ya define 'pervy.'" Raven coughed. "Take this one Knight I used ta know. He was a commoner, only got into the Knights 'cause he did a favor fer an old Captain—Casey's granddad, actually."

The reference got her interest again, as he'd probably intended. More importantly, when Rita moved a stubborn plate around, he didn't flinch. "What kind of favor?" she asked dutifully.

Raven smiled. "When the guy was young, he caught some Knights stealin' in town, followed 'em back, and reported it straight to their Captain. It was stupid, but pretty gutsy, so he was allowed ta join the Knights."

"Is that how you got in?" Rita guessed.

The pieces shifted as he raised that shoulder in a shrug. "Nope. Thanks fer playin'."

She glared at him, but he was still smiling, and she found she had to get back to the blastia right away.

"Nah, he never got any rank ta speak of," Raven said. "He drank too much, spent most of his free time in bars. That's how he met this one girl, an' why he wasn't as careful as he shoulda been—came back in a few weeks and found out she was knocked up."

Rita stopped sketching to gape at him. "What?! How is that not—why would you tell me that?"

"Because that's how my parents met," he said mildly, "and where li'l Schwann came from. Ya do know how that works, right?"

"Of course I know how that works!" She had to take her hands off the blastia pieces to keep from grating the edges on purpose.

"How, might I ask?" His tone was so innocuous that her whole body twitched. "What kinda books did ya grow up readin', anyway?"

"Not that kind!" She poked him with the pencil again, this time with the point. "No one I knew in Halure could afford that crap, and Aspio only had textbooks, so that's what I read. Jerk."

"Yeah," Raven said thoughtfully. "Ya said ya got back there when you were ten—how'd that work? Yer mom took ya when yer dad left, or what?"

"No." Rita moved the pieces loosely back into place, scribbling more notes. How had he remembered that detail? "I was born in Aspio, but Dad ditched us, and then Mom died when I was really little. The old lady next door took me in, so when she moved to Halure, I came too."

"Gotcha." Cough. "What'd she say when ya wanted ta go back?"

"I didn't ask her." She had to pause and erase the word she'd been writing. "I'd been on my own for a while by then."

Raven tapped his other leg, looking askance, but she wasn't in the mood to volunteer more information. "The war didn't get as far as Halure," he pointed out. "So, what happened?"

Damn. "Her grandson came to live with us when I was three or four. She tried to hide him when the Knights came around and started drafting people." Rita was surprised how much it still hurt to remember. "I hated him, so when they came to the door, I told them he was there. They took him away, and Auntie threw me out of the house."

"When you were four?" Though she couldn't look, Rita heard his disbelief quite plainly. "What, just like that?"

"Yeah," she said carelessly. "I hung around for a while. She came out and asked if I was even sorry—" The pencil lead went off the page again. "I probably should've lied."

"Probably." His voice dropped. "I'm sorry, Rita."

She shook her head, rubbing her bare arm as goosebumps rose. "You didn't do anything. I did it to myself." She rubbed the other arm. "There were lots of other kids in my situation, especially once the war got going. The orphanage got so crowded that—" Crap. Too late to take it back.

"That what?" Raven nudged her with his knee. "They didn't have enough room for everybody?"

She shuffled the papers violently. "Yeah, kids who lost their parents in the war got priority. There wasn't even enough food for all of them. The rest of us just had to make do."

"At the ripe old age of—five?"

"Six." Wasn't talking this kind of thing out supposed to be healthy? It felt horrible.

Raven gave a long, deep sigh. "Do me a favor and get my bag, would you please?"

Grateful for the distraction, Rita put down the pencil, turned, and leaned over to drag the bag onto his lap. He gave her a cryptic look, and upended the whole thing onto the bed. "I'll put it back in a moment," Raven said. She shrugged, totally indifferent.

To her amazement, he then ripped away the bag's lining, turned it inside out, and shook out a long, thin, flat black case. "This is _not _yours to keep," he said crisply, "but I'd feel better knowing you were holding onto it for me."

She took the case and opened it. "Huh," was her only audible reaction.

"You have no taste, Rita," he said reproachfully, voice rising back to normal. "Dad saved his beer money fer months ta buy that."

"It's pretty." The mage unhooked one end of the silver chain and lifted the necklace for a better look. "Are these rubies?"

"Garnets," he said. Three oval-cut gems were set on each of three leaflike points in the middle—she didn't know if there was a specific name for it. "Like I said, I'm not givin' it away. I just didn't want some random person takin' it from the castle if I kicked the bucket."

"Is that so?" She tucked the end back in and closed the case. "If it's got sentimental value, I guess I can hold onto it for you." Something made her give the necklace another look. "This is in great condition for being so old. Did your mom wear it a lot?"

"Oh, yeah, all the time," Raven told her, taking the case back and closing it. "She took damned good care of it." He put the case under his pillow, and moved Undine's crystal off the blastia. "I think it's time fer a nap now. Mind puttin' this thing back together so I won't spill anything inside?"

"Sure." She was still curious, but it didn't take a mind reader to see he was ready to stop talking. Rita tapped the blastia gently. "You have to watch this time, though. I want you to know how to do this."

"Eww," he whined. When she glared at him, though, he closed one eye, and kept the other on her fingers as she put pressure on the core's outer support, feeling for the grooves that would let the plates turn back into place.

"See? You'll have to try it, next time you wake up," Rita said. She swept all his things aside with the ripped bag. "I'm turning out the light now, but I'll stay in here to read for a while. You need anything else?"

Raven eased down the bed, stuffing more pillows under his head and turning onto his side. "Aren't ya gonna kiss me goodnight?"

Smiling, she leaned over and – just as he was starting to look alarmed – smacked his cheek with the back of one hand, barely hard enough to sting. "There, stupid. Good night."

She could feel his eyes on her as she crossed the room and switched off the light. "Uh. Night?"

* * *

Strange, Rita thought by the window, book and notes in her lap. For a second, she'd almost considered it; his being old and sad and pretty much dead had weighed heavily on her, almost heavier than his being Raven.

But she _had_ grown up reading textbooks, some of which indicated that the brain began working differently when one reached a certain age. For example, one might be inclined to think better of a person – however irritating or stupid he might usually be – just because he looked good in a uniform...or out of it. And spoke a certain way. Or another certain way. Or—

Augh. She was so mortified that she could hardly sit still.

All right, she thought furiously. So her endocrine system was working properly; she'd felt it before, she was feeling it now, and she'd just have to live with it. She was Rita Mordio, dammit, and she was not going to waste time fretting over a stupid natural involuntary stupid hormonal response to stupid Raven.

Biology textbooks were uniformly silent on what one was supposed to do about it, so she'd just go about her business as well as she could, and not do anything stupid.

...Like jumping on him, or scrubbing his back without asking, or thinking about how the back of her neck had been exposed—

Rita was gripping her notes hard enough to tear the paper. She smoothed it out, reflexively trying to adjust her goggles, which were now buried amidst Raven's stuff. Her yukata was still around his neck, too.

She smiled a little. There'd be time to worry about that crap later. Now, she had a totally unique challenge, possible history to make, and a life to save. Rita bent her head and got to work.


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII.**

The first time Raven woke up that night wasn't bad at all.

For one thing, he wasn't torn awake by another coughing fit; he just heard his name, very quietly, as something patted his shoulder. He stirred, trying to shrug it off with the least possible effort.

"Sorry to wake you," a voice said in his ear. It sounded like Rita, but softer, and a lot nicer. "You need to take some of this. It'll help you sleep longer. Here." Something warm nudged his arm.

Raven thought it over. Too groggy to speak, he gave a single, eloquent grunt, thanking her for the thought, but pointing out that being woken from his first sound sleep in weeks could only be detrimental to his health.

"Oh, shut up, you big baby. You don't even have to open your eyes." Yep. That was definitely Rita. She poked his shoulder. "C'mon."

He grimaced and turned his head away.

The mage poked him again, harder. "Hey. Either you drink it yourself, or I hold you down and pour it in with a funnel. What's it gonna be, old man?"

That sounded a lot kinkier than he could handle right now. Raven scrunched up his face in protest as she put the cup in his hand and helped him take a sip.

It was tea, but not the unobtrusive kind he liked: this tasted flowery and slightly bitter, like an old lady's perfume. "Blllrrrrph," he informed her.

"Shut up. You're lucky the neighbors had some I could borrow." Rita let him take his time drinking the rest. Once he'd finished, she took the cup back. "Good job." Raven felt her pat him on the head like a dog. "Now go back to sleep."

Despite the warm drink, his throat itched, preventing him from making a smart reply. Oh, darn, he consoled himself drowsily. He'd just have to lie here, warm and comfy and safe.

His lips twitched. There was that word again, still in conjunction with Rita. He really was an idiot.

The important thing was, he was a really _comfortable_ idiot.

"I'm going to be poking around your blastia for a little while longer," Rita told him, placing the cup on the nightstand. "Don't be surprised if you wake up and there's blood everywhere, okay? I want to get all that dried stuff off you so I can see everything clearly." He heard papers stop mid-shuffle—she must have noticed his expression. "Relax, old man. I'm just gonna clean it up and take a look inside. I won't do anything major without telling you first, not unless it's an emergency. I promise."

That did make him feel better. Raven would've liked to say as much, and thank her for not being Alexei, but sleep was creeping up too fast. Ah, well, Rita didn't like being thanked anyway. She'd just yell at him for comparing her to creepy murdering Commandants. If she did, maybe he could pretend to pass out again and...

He dropped off between that thought and the next.

Karol was still awake after midnight, partly due to his legs aching; he had been growing rapidly the past few months, and his body kept finding new, annoying ways to let him know it.

Height did have its benefits, though. For example, when he walked around a corner and ran smack into Judith, the impact was a lot softer than if he'd been a head shorter: he literally bounced off her, staggering against the wall.

"Careful," Judith reproved him. She crossed her arms as Karol looked up and realized what had happened. "Are you all right?"

"Uh..." The boy brushed himself off, feeling his face heat up. "Y-yeah. Sorry about that."

"What are you doing up at this hour?" Estelle stepped out from behind Judith and bent to retrieve the leaflet he'd dropped. "What's this?"

Crap. "Um." Karol rubbed the back of his neck, more self-conscious than ever. "Just a little...you know."

"These are all the people signed up for the melee, aren't they?" The Krityan took the leaflet and pointed to marks he'd made on the neat lines of type. "What's all this?"

"Nothing," Karol said firmly. For a moment, he considered snatching the paper and running away, but that seemed too rude. Also, Judith was much faster than he was.

"It doesn't look like nothing." Judith flipped it over, scanning the rules printed on the other side. There was a huge, scratchy series of loops drawn around the paragraph detailing how the winners would be selected. She flipped the leaflet back over, nodding to herself.

"What?" the princess asked. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he protested, just as Judith said, "He's trying to figure out how many people he can avoid fighting."

"I am not!" His voice cracked in indignation, and he fumed as the women tried to stifle their laughter. "I'm really not! When was the last time I ran away from anything, huh?"

"We know you're not afraid, Karol," Estelle said soothingly. "But only twenty-one people are going to qualify out of that whole thing. That's a lot of friends you have to fight." She checked the paper again. "Nan is participating, too, isn't she?"

"So what?" He pulled the list out of Judith's grasp and stuffed it into his pocket. "What are _you _guys doing up so late?" Everyone had gone to their rooms right after dinner.

"Girl stuff." Judith's tone was light enough, but there was an edge to it that made Karol look at them both more closely. Now that he was paying attention, Estelle looked as if she'd been crying; she gave him a wan little smile, shaking her head.

He was about to ask what was wrong when Judith's head turned sharply. A moment later, they all heard footsteps clanking down the hall toward them. "We'd better go to bed," said Estelle. "I promised the captain of the guards I wouldn't keep wandering around so much."

"Good idea." Karol hesitated just long enough to fall in step behind them as Estelle led the way back toward the stairs. However often he came up here on the highest floors, the castle's layout only got more and more confusing.

They made it all the way back to Judith's room without being spotted. "Do you know how to get back on your own, Karol?" she asked.

"Of course," he lied.

Judith raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? You could just sleep in Rita's room while she's not here."

He couldn't help squirming a little at the idea. "Nah, I'm good. Besides, she'd beat me up if she knew about it."

Estelle made a thoughtful sound. "I wonder how she and R—Schwann are getting along. It's too bad they couldn't be here, isn't it?"

There was a beat of silence as they considered it.

"I hope he's still alive," Judith said.

Karol snorted. "If he is, I hope he's unconscious."

"Now, now," Estelle chastised him. "She might remember to go easy on him." She cleared her throat uneasily. "Sometimes. If he doesn't do anything to make her angry."

Judith nodded. "True."

"Yep," Karol agreed.

A longer, more depressing silence opened up.

"So," Judith said conversationally, "has he written his will yet?"

The second time Raven woke up that night, he was pretty sure he was going to die.

He knew he'd been having nice dreams, but not what they were about, because his lungs suddenly caught fire and tried to rip themselves apart.

"Wha—?" A scramble of motion from the floor next to the bed. Rita leapt to her feet and seized his shoulder. "Raven? Hey!"

Raven batted her hand away and doubled over as another cough wracked him. It hurt so much that he wasn't surprised to see pink flecks on the palm he used to cover his mouth.

"Calm down," she nearly shouted in his ear. "Quit coughing."

"Qui—" Sheer rage forced him to get the next round done quickly and turn his face to glare up at her. "'_Quit coughing_'?" he rasped. "Go to—"

"Easy." Somehow, Rita forced him to sit up, bracing her weight against his body's efforts to fold back up with each cough. "Listen to me," she said, low and urgent. "I know you can't help it, Raven, but you have to try to relax."

"Hurts," was all he could get out. Why hadn't they worked out some kind of signal for _Please kill me quickly_?

"I know," the girl said tightly. She reached over and grasped Undine's crystal with her free hand. Raven didn't see what she did, but something clicked against the blastia. The burning constriction abruptly eased. "Breathe through your nose. Come on."

Raven closed his mouth and inhaled deeply, before a weak cough broke it off.

Click. "Good. Do it again."

He took another long breath, and looked down at whatever she was doing with the crystal. For no reason he could think of, he tried to push it away.

"Stop that." Rita pushed his hand back to his side and held it there for a second. Her thumb tapped his wrist a couple of times, searching for his pulse, he realized. "Again."

"Mm." Raven got a good whiff of her hair before he had to turn his head to keep from hacking crud all over her; the spots were fading from his vision as his lungs caught up.

She click-scraped the crystal over his blastia, which made him grit his teeth—which meant he wasn't coughing, which was a vast improvement. "Let's see..." The mage released his left wrist and leaned over to turn his right palm upward. "Yeah, that's disgusting." She tugged the yukata free from where it had fallen behind him. To his bemusement, Rita then picked up his hand and wiped it clean, tossing the yukata to the foot of the bed.

"Ew," Raven croaked.

"No talking yet," she scolded him. "Save your breath." The mage pushed him back against the pillows and frowned at the near-colorless crystal. "There goes your backup. I didn't think you were going to make me use it up so fast."

Raven wasn't listening. Luckily for his continued existence, Rita didn't expect an answer, and thus didn't notice his sudden interest as she bent down to lift the crystal from around his neck. He angled his head toward her to get the cord around his ponytail, a fit of helpfulness that had nothing at all to do with gravity or tank-top necklines, as far as he was concerned.

"There we go," she said, bundling the pendant up in one hand. "Try to pace yourself this time."

He nodded vaguely, agreeing that if she just leaned forward a little more and lowered her arms, everything – somehow – would be all right.

"I think you're out of danger for the moment." Rita obliterated his hopes with a quick step back toward the window. To his surprise, creaky yellow light showed around the edge of the shutters. Had he slept that long? "I'm going to get a little more sleep, but after that..." She threw open the shutters and flooded the room with sunlight. "Time to operate."

A little sigh escaped him, almost a sob. The girl looked at him in concern, hands on the windowsill. "Raven?"

It took him almost to the count of ten, but he managed to shrug, and nod, closing his eyes as if he had just needed to think about it for a second.

It was going to take a lot longer to get that image of her out of his head.

"Okay," she said, as if to herself, and came over to rap her nails on a bedpost. "I'm gonna fix you one more cup of tea. You slept almost twelve hours after that first dose, you know."

He couldn't think straight enough to reply, not even by making a face. Rita sighed in exasperation. "You don't have to like it, just—never mind. I'll be right back."

Raven waited till she'd left the room, then opened his eyes and eased himself sideways to open the nightstand drawer. His whole upper body ached fiercely, but he could live with that; more importantly, he had to take care of a couple of things before he went under. If he lived through it, he'd see what happened afterward. If he didn't...

Too bad he hadn't had a camera. Words were too entirely the wrong shape for expressing how she'd looked, all glowy and lovely and—dammit, it _did_ sound stupid. And who'd want to hear it, anyway?

He shook off the frustration before it could crush him, tamping it down with the ease of long practice. That was a problem for later, if he had any laters left. For now, it was time to take a page from Rita's book and get to work.

Rita hadn't expected to come in and find him writing. He had evidently found more papers left in the nightstand, using his own pen and a battered notebook to write on. "What's that?"

"Don't worry about it," he said hoarsely. To her further surprise, the older man accepted the cup from her and took a sip without waiting for help. "Thank you."

She watched him set it on the nightstand and go back to his work. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked, almost suspiciously.

"'Bout as well as you'd expect." Raven shrugged. His brows creased as he reread a line, started to change it, and shook his head. "Sorry, this is a pain. Can't do it with someone watchin' me."

"Right." With one last, curious glance, Rita sat down on the floor next to the bed, picking up the pillow she'd left there. "Well, I'm taking a nap. Drink the rest of that, and you should stay out till I'm done later." She looked up at him, and shrugged. "See you then."

Raven snorted faintly. "Don't get all emotional on me, Rita. Really. Yer embarrassin' the both of us."

"Shut up, idiot," she snapped. Lacking a better outlet, Rita braced herself on the bed and kicked one foot up, pushing against the wall to no real end. "You'll be fine. Okay? I—"

A hand on her head brought Rita to a dead halt. "Okay," Raven said dryly. "You win. I'll be fine." His fingers rested there for another moment, light as they always were; it might have been kind of nice, had he not started drumming on the top of her head.

"Quit it!" She swatted his hand away.

"Aye, milady," Raven said gallantly, and started writing again.

Rita shuffled onto her side, rolling over with her back against the wall. "You've got too much hand for one person," she mumbled, only half aware of what she was saying. "I could make a hat out of it."

"That's gross, young lady." Raven took another sip of tea as a cough threatened. "'Sides, you'd just use it ta mop up spit."

Rita hunched her shoulders. "It's called sputum, stupid, and it's much worse than spit."

Raven gave a rickety laugh. "Sputum? Seriously? Sounds like a dirty name fer—"

"Yes, seriously!" She turned over, imagining she was strangling Raven instead of a defenseless pillow. "So finish whatever you're doing and drink your damn tea!"

"Yes'm." He fell silent, and the pen-scratching picked up speed.

She was almost asleep when his voice startled her: "Can I ask one of my favors now, 'fore ya go back ta bed?"

"Sure." Rita swiped at her eyes. "But only if it's quick."

"It's actually a coupla things. What I'm writin', that is." The paper rattled, as if he were folding it. "If I'm rude enough ta croak before ya fix this thing..." He took a drink. "Could ya make sure they get to the right people? I'll label 'em and everything."

"Sure." A moment later, she processed his meaning, and sat bolt upright. "Hey, wait a—"

"And when I do pull through okay and feel silly fer writin' these?" He couldn't keep his tone even. "Don't peek at 'em. Please?"

"Okay, okay," Rita grumbled, though her eyes were wide open, hands clenching the pillow. "Anything else while we're both up?"

"Yeah." The mattress groaned as he leaned over its side. She glanced over her shoulder. "Whatever happens," he said quietly, "whether this works or not, there's not another one of you in the whole damn world. I mean that."

Rita gazed up at him, ears burning, and ducked her head into the pillow. "See you tonight, old man."

He sat back up, and started writing again.

She rolled over, and closed her eyes, though sleep was a long time coming.


	9. Chapter 9

**IX.**

The day before Estelle's twentieth birthday dawned bright, clear, and hot—at least, it did in Capua Torim.

Before he went to bed, Yuri had asked the servants not to wake him for the melee. He'd planned to get up a couple of hours early, sneak out for a jog down to the lower quarter, and make it back to the castle in time for breakfast.

He hadn't counted on being unable to fall asleep for several hours, or on the sun staying hidden behind thick clouds, keeping his room dark; in retrospect, he only had himself to blame for nearly sleeping through the whole thing.

His salvation came in a cry of dismay that jolted him wide awake: "Yuri! I can't believe—get up _right now_!"

"Wha?" Yuri sat up in alarm, reaching for his sword. But there was no danger, just Estelle standing in the doorway.

They stared at each other for a very long, brittle moment, as the pieces fell into place: she was wearing a formal dress, makeup, and jewelry, which meant she was about to make a formal public appearance. Of course, that would be at the melee, which was supposed to start as soon as she got there. If she left now, that meant the melee would begin right...about...

"Oh, crap! What time is it?!" Yuri threw the covers clear off the bed in renewed panic. How the hell could he have slept this long? Registration could be over already!

"Everyone else has already signed in!" The princess grabbed his elbow and hauled him to his feet. "You have to hurry!"

He'd fallen asleep in his clothes, so he jammed his boots on, and tried to recall what else he was supposed to bring. "Okay, okay. I just have to—"

"No time!" And before he knew it, Estelle had grabbed his hand, towing him out of the room and down the hall at a near-run.

"Hey!" Yuri tried to tug free, but she had a pretty good grip. He wouldn't get loose without hurting both of them. "Hey, leggo!" he protested. "What about my sword?"

"You'll be provided with one, remember? You just have to get there on time." She gave him a look of almost maternal exasperation. "We're taking a shortcut."

"Fine, but I can walk on my—" Yuri almost bit his tongue as Estelle took a sharp turn into a stairwell and the rest of him followed at a weird angle.

They went down a few floors, then left those stairs and cut across the hall to another stairwell, this one going _up_, and then came down another one onto what looked like the same damn floor. "How short a cut is this?" he couldn't help asking.

Estelle just smiled in answer, and picked up their pace.

Yuri sighed. Well, he'd wanted to get some exercise in before the melee. Besides, any time spent with Estelle was, by definition, no cause for complaint; he just had to be careful not to think any further than that, and even more careful not to step on her.

The princess's heels made dainty little clacking sounds, but she didn't miss a single step. Watching her feet flash under the long green skirt was almost hypnotic; he didn't even recognize the carpeting of the castle's lowest floor underfoot.

"There!" Estelle released him so abruptly that he almost ran into her. They had reached the back door nearest the melee field, propped open to let in the humid air. She trotted ahead of him, picking up her skirts and squinting in the torchlight. "Go sign in over there. Good luck," she said briskly. Before he could reply, she was off at a dash across the edges of the muddy field, ducking behind the Knights' perimeter around the crowd.

"Thanks," Yuri murmured. He waited a moment to catch his breath, and to watch her weave her way toward the dais, skidding to a halt just out of the crowd's view.

Despite the ominous weather, people were standing ten deep around the long rails, nobles crammed elbow-to-elbow in the stands on either side of the field. A cheer rose on the edges of the crowd, rippling outward as the princess stepped into the pool of light around the dais.

Yuri shook himself—he should go check in while she was distracting everyone. He turned and started toward the knots of white-swathed figures at one end of the field, where the registration booth was still set up.

In a couple of glances, he could see Estelle acknowledge the onlookers with waves and smiles; she turned and curtsied to Ioder, then ascended the few steps and seated herself as gracefully as if she hadn't just run half a mile in nice shoes.

She was only a little late, then, and he had a few precious seconds before the melee officially began. He'd have to get her another puppy or three.

"There he is," someone said behind him, but Yuri didn't stop, not even when his friends spotted him.

"Hey, it's Yuri! See? I knew he'd make it," Karol said to a nearby Hunting Blade.

The costumed warrior shrugged. "More people, more points for us."

Yuri ignored them, and the stitch forming in his side, making one last push toward the counter as the people behind it started putting things away. "I'm here!" he panted, and stabbed a finger randomly at the lists spread across the counter. "Yuri Lowell? It should be right on the—"

"Here's your number, Mr. Lowell," the girl said cheerfully. "We saved one for you." To Yuri's enormous relief, she undraped a piece of cloth from around her neck and set it on the counter.

"Yeah, 'cause you bet he'd show up," her partner grumbled. He reached beneath their seats, holding a sturdy wooden sword out for Yuri's inspection. "Will this do, sir? There's a few halberds left, not much else to choose from."

"Uh...yeah, a sword's fine. Thanks." Yuri took it, tossed the weapon from hand to hand – well-balanced, he noted – and picked up the square of white linen. An oversized loop hung from each side of it, with a metal wire twisted around the ends. He hoped they'd explain that later. "Anything else?"

"Your fee's taken care of, so that'll be all till they start the announcements. Good luck." The girl smiled at him.

Yuri was at a momentary loss for words. It cost 500 Gald to enter the melee, and he definitely hadn't paid in advance. Was it a mistake? Should he say something?

"Remember, we all paid together?" Judith said at his elbow.

"Oh. We went ahead with that? Good to know." Yuri nodded appreciatively, moving with her away from the group who had been watching them at the counter. When they were out of earshot, he grimaced. "Thanks. Who got it for me?"

"Estelle. When she found out you weren't here yet, she gave us your fee in case you came running in late without it," Judith explained. "Karol paid for all three of us out of 'the guild funds,' so no one will complain about the princess sponsoring you." There was a reproachful note in the Krityan's mild voice. "Where were you? You're already out of breath."

Yuri scowled. "I overslept." He swung the sword to his shoulder, testing its weight with light taps against his neck. "Estelle had to get me up and drag me down here."

Karol had joined them in time to hear Yuri's answer. "Good thing no one saw you," the boy said sternly. "What would people say if they knew she was—"

"Morning," Yuri called over Karol's head. "Nice day to beat each other up, huh?"

Sodia was standing just a few feet away, fingering the smooth edge of her sword, sizing them up. She nodded shortly and turned to walk back into the crowd.

"Number 1. When did she get here? Last night?" Yuri threaded his arms through the huge loops, patting his own numbers into place. He was 137. "She really is going for Flynn's old spot. Gotta admit, winning this thing would look awesome on her resume. Get the back of this for me, would you, Judith?"

"Hmm." She pulled the loops straight back, twisting them together and wrapping the wire around it with ruthless efficiency. "How's that?"

"Ow," was all he said, because he could appreciate how the arrangement would be safer than relying on people's knot-tying skills, or having everyone wear a sash; not only was the wire easy to twist up securely, no one could get it loose and switch or steal anyone's numbers mid-battle. The fighters would all stay easily identifiable, however chaotic things got.

He didn't think his needed to be so tight, though. Even Judith and some of the really barrel-chested guild members had some breathing room.

"Are you okay, Yuri?" Karol frowned up at him as Yuri tried to pull some slack out of the loops. "You don't look okay."

Yuri didn't answer. He turned his gaze back toward the dais, and kept it there; sure enough, in less than a minute, Estelle nodded to Leblanc, who stepped out and bellowed a request for the audience's attention.

The lieutenant was loud enough, even at that distance, to preclude any further conversation. Yuri did some unobtrusive stretches as they all heard the rules of the day: the fighters were to disperse as widely as possible over the field, and wait for the signal. Once the horn sounded, participants were allowed to attack whoever they liked, however they liked, for as long as they could, till they challenged or were challenged by another participant.

Newly rewritten rules were fairly obvious as Leblanc spelled out all the means of disqualification—no blows to the head, no striking a downed foe, no interfering with other challenges, and so on, none of which the Knights in the old tournaments would have ever needed to be told. Looking around at some of the guild members, Yuri made a note to go after the really crazy ones first, before they got themselves disqualified.

The new rules Leblanc was rattling off did preserve the tradition of one-on-one challenges within the bigger free-for-all, but instead of "capturing" an opponent for the right to his money, possessions, or even rank, as Yuri had once heard, today's fighters would just earn points for each person they beat. The numbers would make it easier for the judges to keep track of who did what to whom, and when, even in the weak, smoky light.

Not counting the hour's penalty – or rest – engendered by yielding to another fighter, the melee wouldn't end till the afternoon, when the judges tallied up scores and announced the top twenty-one names. All of those would go on to the single-round elimination tournament held day after tomorrow, with the top scorer skipping straight to the semifinals.

It took nearly fifteen minutes to go through the whole thing, by which point everyone was thoroughly restless, including Yuri. "This was all printed out days ago," he complained to Karol.

"Yeah, even the Hunting Blades are required to know how to read." Karol jumped back as Yuri's stomach suddenly gave a creaky rumble. "Holy...did you eat anything at all before you came?"

"No breakfast in bed today." Yuri lifted the sword again in relief: the participants closest to the entrance to the field were being herded toward it. "See, he's gotta be wrapping up soon. You ready?"

Karol nodded, taking a steady grip on his axe, only a little nervous. "Good luck, you guys."

"And to you," Judith said gently, though Yuri recognized her smile as anticipation, and made another note to stay the hell away from her.

They followed the others down to the field as Leblanc concluded the announcements. As they reached the entrance, Yuri ducked away from his friends and trailed after a cluster of Hunting Blades he recognized from their travels. He had lots of acquaintances to catch up on today; these guys would make a nice, quick warmup.

The judges, guards, and healers took up their positions around the melee ground. Leblanc raised a hand, and the other heralds snapped to attention, trumpets at the ready.

Yuri breathed deeply. He shifted his weight, and as Leblanc's hand dropped, he found himself grinning, too.

Horns blared. Hundreds of voices roared, on and off the field, and Yuri only took a second to nod at the dais – though he couldn't see Estelle from here – before he put everything out of his mind, and stepped forward, sword raised for his first blow.

* * *

Rita stood over a makeshift operating table, pondering the bloody bits of machinery in her hands. "Looks like I couldn't do it," she said thoughtfully. "Sorry."

Raven shrugged. "That's okay, Rita. You tried." He tapped the sticky rim of his blastia shell, brushing the half-dried splash down his side. "Sorry I can't stay and help clean this up. Talk about rude, huh?" Their eyes met. He smiled, and held out a red hand. "You're not mad at me, are ya?"

She wasn't mad. But she couldn't tell him so, because that was when she jerked awake, staring at the wall.

Her detachment vanished; horror and nausea hit her in cold, sick waves, one after another. It _was _just a dream, she realized almost instantly—but relief didn't blank out that last image, or the urge to throw up.

Overwhelmed, Rita buried her face in the pillow. It muffled her gasping breaths, so she burrowed into it harder, as if she could suffocate herself into self-control.

None of it was real, she thought frantically, stomach churning. Her brain had just been sorting through the whole case, and dredged up the fears she'd been suppressing while awake. That was all. She hadn't really smelled any blood. The blastia wasn't in pieces, and Raven wasn't dead.

Right?

Rita shoved herself off the floor and stumbled to her feet, nearly knocking the empty cup off the nightstand in her haste.

Raven was lying just where she'd left him, deeply asleep, blastia shining blue-green. He didn't stir when she pulled herself halfway over him, one knee between his, and held her fingers out to check that he was breathing; then, because that was a stupid test and she didn't know why she'd bothered with it, Rita let her head drop onto his chest with a dull _thmp_.

Her ear stung where it hit the metal plates, but Rita didn't care. Her attention was all on the steady, thrumming click of his heartbeat, and the scratchy ends of his breathing as the plates rose and fell against her cheek. He wasn't alive in the traditional sense, but dead people didn't make any sounds at all, now did they?

Just like that, her fears collapsed into elation, and more than a trace of smugness. It had just been a stupid dream, after all. Why should it worry her? If he was still breathing, still solid and alive and...well, he was unquestionably alive, she was lying right on him to prove it—why not crack him open now, and quit worrying about what might happen if she waited any longer?

And because she was smarter than her own brain, and not smart enough to calm down first, Rita decided she had waited long enough, and pushed herself off him to go get her tools. She'd had a list in mind when she went to sleep, so she had only to arrange a few things on a tray, gather her notes onto the nightstand, and slide the blastia open to get down to business.

Fear couldn't catch a moving target – not that she was afraid; it just paid to be careful – so Rita's feelings stayed behind as she double-checked her equipment, and mentally ticked off the known versus unknown quantities in this operation:

First, she knew that aer had been needed to start the thing up in the first place, but that a balance of Undine's power and tiny amounts of electricity had been able to kick-start the blastia when the device was interrupted. It was a Hermes blastia, too, so it had been built to use vast quantities of aer. No wonder Undine's power had been eaten up so quickly.

The mage suspected Alexei had had other devices to fine-tune, stop, or otherwise screw around with the blastia, but their design wasn't in his notes. If she couldn't fix the most immediate problem or problems with the heart...well, she was out of Undine's energy, with no viable alternatives. That would be very bad, so she abandoned that line of thought and charged ahead:

She knew now that the blastia in his chest was not really the heart itself, but the conduit through which his life flowed; she had seen the connectors leading down to the pumping mechanisms, though, and those were her primary focus right now. Technically, they should probably all be counted as one unit, but she found it much easier to think of fixing separate parts than facing one multiplicity of blood-dribbling, malfunctioning hunks of...ugh. Best not to think about that, either.

She was certain that the exchange of oxygenated blood normally carried out by the heart was being interfered with by some kind of small mechanical failure in the left ventricle. If it had been a large-scale failure, he'd be dead already. If it had been in a different area or areas, he would have presented different symptoms, and possibly also be dead already. She had also heard strong evidence to that effect with the stethoscope.

So her job now was to examine his heart, find the part that was killing him, and fix it, then put it back together and see how he felt. Once he was out of immediate danger, she could use her new data to figure out how to make the whole thing work properly again.

Rita nodded, satisfied, and began removing the plates, easing them away from the blastia and placing them, one at a time, on a strip of sterile cotton. This time, she wasn't just peeking around corners: they were allgoing to come out.

It was easy till she got to the last two. She'd etched tiny marks in the corners, telling her which plate went where and next to which others around the blastia, but she'd had less success making friends with the grooves in which they actually moved. The biggest piece was supposed to go last, but she got frustrated and jiggled out the adjacent plate with...what might have been unnecessary force. The sound it made sliding out was a very bad one indeed.

"I did not just break anything," Rita said aloud, and she scolded herself till she really believed it. She had to. Even if she _had_ broken the plate, a tiny part of her mind pointed out, what was the use of getting too upset to go on with the operation? Fear and self-doubt had never gotten her a damn thing. If she stopped just because she didn't know how to do this, that was too bad, because no one else could.

She'd fix it later, if need be. Putting that aside, Rita went to the bathroom and scrubbed her hands clean, then washed them again for good measure. She came back to the bed, used a knuckle to flip open the surgical kit Kenneth had procured just a few hours ago, and selected a pair of forceps as the most likely to be of use.

Deep breath.

Rita reached in with the forceps and slowly, gently lifted the tubes of Raven's heart up, around the blastia, level with the metal rings. She leaned in and tilted it toward her for her first close look.

Afterward, her neighbors told her she hadn't made any noise, or at least nothing they could hear across thin walls and narrow alleys. She couldn't believe them, because when she angled the greenishly translucent, wet-fluttery mechanism out into the light, it greeted her with a tiny, precise jet of blood in the face, and she lost control of herself for the second time that day.

She didn't scream, apparently. Neither did she faint, or throw up, or even drop the forceps. When she had calmed down enough to take stock of the situation, Rita only saw her hands trembling, and heard a strange, muffled keening from somewhere behind her, as if a child was crying on the street outside. She swallowed, and the sound stopped, because she had been making it.

Her mind stayed mercifully blank for about half a minute. When another thought surfaced, it was pure, random irritation: Raven would probably make a dirty joke when she told him how his heart had spat on her.

That...didn't exactly make her feel better, but she would rather be mad at something he hadn't said yet than freak out over what he hadn't meant to do to her. So she scowled, and thought angry thoughts until her hands stopped shaking. With some equilibrium restored, Rita could think about what had happened from a scientific viewpoint.

His heart had sprung a leak. It was a great find, actually, because it gave her a definite, specific goal: patch a leak. Put that way, his blastia's problems sounded almost...prosaic.

In fact, it was so simple that it genuinely irked her. Something like that should've been fixed a long time ago, by _some_body, somehow. And for that matter, if it had been spraying like that this whole time, why wasn't he dead yet?

On a hunch, the mage eased his heart back down into the chest cavity and let go, watching gravity reclaim it. The sight was faintly nauseating, but educational; the tube was barely seeping any blood at all now that it was laying the way it wanted to, though the output likely had more to do with his heart rate than his body's position.

That was it, Rita realized—she had gotten sprayed because she'd been holding it at an angle that forced the blood to pump harder through the twisted tube, like water through a coiled hose. No wonder the whole thing had been so messy, with all that slow leakage building up.

For the first and what she devoutly hoped was the last time, Rita felt a twinge of gratitude to Alexei for using colored tubes, whatever they were made of; she spotted the leak right away, instead of wasting valuable time trying to come out with a method of detecting it.

The feeling passed. "Fuck you, Alexei," she snapped, and felt better for it. Why thank the sick bastard for making his own experiment easier on himself? He would've wanted to find leaks quickly, too. Now he was dead, and she was still cleaning up after him.

Rita glanced up at Raven, who was blissfully unaware of his insides' ignoble handling. She'd made that second cup stronger, and it seemed to be working; neither of them would be very happy if he woke up with her poking around in his chest.

She shook off that mental image, and got back to work. The tubes were hard, but flexible; moving them aside, she could see the leak had started where that tube joined the rest of the heart. Maybe it had been pulling itself loose, or a microscopic tear had been forming, ripped wide open when he was hit in the joust. There was no way to be sure, but it was a decent hypothesis.

Her first idea was just dumb enough to work: Rita got the heart out again and – to her disgust – had to hold it up in spurting range to get a good grip with her thumb and forefinger. Her goal was just to push the slippery tube back up into the mechanism. Maybe it really was that simple?

It wasn't. The material stubbornly resisted, and though the tube would go in, it slid right back out again, and again. The mage cursed, and would've tried one more time, had Raven not suddenly mumbled something, squirming in his sleep.

She almost dropped it, but made herself ease the device back into his chest. When he gave no further indication of waking, Rita straightened up, and went to the bathroom to wash her hands again. It was difficult not to think of touching his actual beating heart and all the gross intimacy that came with it—if sex was anything remotely like this, she vowed, then her next project was going to be a self-contained, personal-sized electric fence to keep guys away from her, permanently.

With that resolution in mind, Rita suddenly recalled Raven showing her the blastia en route to Zaphias almost a week ago. Something important, useful...what was she trying to think of? No, not his eyes, so it would be nice if she could stop thinking of them...when he was sitting there with his shirt open and she had—that was it!

Rita almost leapt back onto the bed and seized the forceps again, thinking very hard about precision, and delicacy, and about _not_ turning his heart into charcoal. With the most exquisite care she had ever taken, the mage raised the heart once more, angling it so that as little blood as possible was oozing from the leak. She had to bend her neck way over to see it now, but at least her hair wasn't in her eyes.

The mage paused till her mind was utterly calm again. Then she pushed and held the tube closed on itself with her right hand, brought her thumbnail down against the leak, and urged a hair-thin line of heat across the split material, holding it for just a moment against the bloody metal joint.

It worked. The material bubbled a little, but she hadn't overdone it: the slit was melted neatly shut, all the way up into where it disappeared into the mechanism. Over her stomach's protests, Rita held the tube for several more seconds, willing it to stay closed as she slowly unfolded her fingers.

"It worked," she said, disbelieving. The blood was now flowing normally through that tube, even when she let it go back to its usual position. She hadn't burned through it, or damaged any of the other parts—she'd done it! He might not die after all, at least not on her watch!

Rita's hands were shaky again as she checked his heart all over, from every discernible angle. She took such copious notes that she had to go get three more sheets of paper to fill, front and back; she did get the last plate stuck again as she finished cleaning and replacing the blastia pieces, but it turned out one of the edges had just gotten a little bent. A moment heating it between her fingers, a few seconds with the forceps, and it went back in with only a bit of effort.

He was not cured, she reminded herself sternly. She still had no idea what almost any of his heart was made of. She'd have to get her hands in there again. He wouldn't be up and running around yet for a very long time, if ever; she'd just bought him some more time, that was all.

Rita sat there for a long time after she'd put everything away and cleaned him up. Cross-legged, chin resting on her hand, she stared at the blastia's light, wondering if it was getting wobbly, or if it was just her imagination. She kept rubbing her palm against her leg, trying to get the fluttering sensation off her skin.

She knew she was still suppressing most of her feelings—revulsion, doubt, and fear still crowded round the edge of her mind; luckily, she was too drained for any of it to catch up yet. It was barely noon now, which meant she'd only had a couple of brief naps since last night. At this point, so long as he was still breathing, she didn't plan to do anything about anything till she'd gotten some sleep.

"I wish we could see everyone," she told Raven, and yawned. "It'd be nice to hear how things went over there, wish Estelle a happy birthday..." If she leaned back against two pillows just so, legs folded, she could watch him in total comfort. "What'd they say, day after tomorrow? They can't make it before then, right?"

Of course, Raven didn't answer. The mage nodded sleepily. "Guess it's a good thing. If Estelle was here, she'd just be bugging me about how I was feeling. She's such a pain sometimes."

A lump had risen in her throat, somehow. She was hungry, and probably could use a shower, but Rita mostly wanted...company? Comfort?

"Pffft," was her answer to that. She'd be fine, and so would Raven. Rita closed her eyes, smiling faintly – she had done a damn good job on that tube – and was instantly asleep.

* * *

She slept so deeply that the light being switched on barely woke her up. "Rita," said a familiar voice. "Rita, are you awake?"

"Man, she's really out," someone else said, further away. "How long was she up working on you, old man?"

"Beats me," replied Raven. His voice was weak, but it was definitely Raven. Something stirred against her shoulder, and he said, "Hey, Rita. I—why are you covered in blood?!"

"Mmm?" Rita started to wipe her eyes, only to find gummy stuff on her cheeks. "Oh. Heart was leaky. I fixed it." She settled down again with a long yawn. Figured. People were here, and she hadn't showered in a couple of days. Too bad; she was still sleepy.

"Thanks fer the help," Raven said, almost in her ear, "but as long as ya look like an ax murderer, I'm gonna hafta decline pillow duty."

"Pi—augh!" She jerked away from his shoulder as though it had burned her.

"It's all right. You were just leaning on him," Estelle said soothingly, patting her other shoulder.

"It is _not _all right!" Rita found more missed spots on her face as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. The window was closed; their friends were all standing or sitting around the room, and Raven was alive. She should probably be happier, shouldn't she? "I—" She frowned at Estelle. "What are you guys even doing here?"

"We came to see you," Judith said from the foot of the bed. "It's been a busy day for everyone, and we wanted to catch up."

"Yeah, I got fifth place in the melee!" Karol's hair was sticking straight up, either from excitement, or from the way he was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "You shoulda seen it! We each got a—"

"Way to be concerned, Captain." Yuri opened the window to let the sea breeze in. "So you did it, huh, Rita?" It was already dark outside. She'd slept through the whole day.

"Yeah. I..." The mage tried to be nonchalant, but another look at Raven almost killed her. He was half smiling, a little sad, but mostly...she wished he'd stop. "Yeah." Crap, there was the lump again.

"I knew you could do it!" Estelle clapped her hands. "It must have been so hard, but you still did it, all by yourself. You're amazing, Rita!"

Rita grunted, and looked down at her hands. There was still blood under her nails. "Nah," she muttered.

The room was silent for exactly three seconds, as she tried to think angry thoughts. She was _not _going to end this awful day by breaking down in front of people, dammit!

"Are you crying?" Karol asked bluntly.

"No! I'm just...I didn't get enough sleep." She swiped at her eyes with her bare forearm. Oh, hell, she'd gotten blood on her tank top, too. There was even a little smear of it on Raven's bare shoulder, where her cheek had been resting.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Judith said meaningfully, and Karol fell silent again.

"There's nothing to..." She swallowed. "So, who won the melee?"

"Sodia's been practicing. I got third, Judith's second," Yuri replied. Then, very quietly, he added, "You did good, Rita."

Not fair, Rita thought, but the words wouldn't make it out. She was too tired for this crap.

"If Raven can at least walk to the dock, we can take you both back to Zaphias tonight, for the party tomorrow," Estelle said anxiously, misinterpreting Rita's expression. "I know you've had a long day, too, but we didn't want you to miss anything."

"This is all my fault," Raven said to Rita in a mock undertone. "I asked 'em ta come back early while you were havin' that last argument with the other mages. Whether I was alive or dead by now, I figured you could probably use the company."

Rita hit him hard enough to knock him halfway off the bed, and pulled up her knees to hide her face.

"Rita?" Estelle's eyes widened as the mage's shoulders heaved. "Rita? Are you all right?"

They were treated to a string of unintelligible curses, punctuated by occasional, furious sniffles.

No one was sure what to do. Rita hoped one of them would give her an excuse for further violence, but it was Estelle who spoke next: "Yuri, why don't you and Karol get Raven down to the ship? We'll be there in a minute."

This was an excellent suggestion, they agreed, though both were still sore from the melee. As they picked Raven up and walked him out of the room, Karol didn't notice how the older man's head kept turning toward the bed; Yuri did, but chalked it up to the sight of Judith and Estelle hovering protectively over Rita.

That wasn't it, though Raven would later – and quite happily – think of them in that context. What was he supposed to say before they left the room, anyway? "Thanks" would just piss her off, and "Sorry you had to get bled on" wouldn't go down any better. He'd have to wait for her to calm down, and think of some way to thank her properly.

What would even _count_ as proper thanks anymore?


	10. Chapter 10

**X.**

Had they stopped to think about it first, carrying Raven all the way down to Ba'ul would have been one hell of a daunting prospect; after his long illness, Raven was still quite heavy, and too weak to support himself.

Tired as they were, though, Karol and Yuri were mostly worried about what Rita might do to them if they stuck around. Estelle's suggestion suited them just fine: the two younger men scooped Raven off the bed, settled him across their aching shoulders, and nearly ran out of the room before anyone else could get hurt.

They almost hurt themselves anyway coming downstairs at that pace. Yuri just managed to grab the banister on the last step, swing hard to the right, and land them on the back of the couch before they hit the floor. "Sorry, old man," he panted. "You okay?"

Raven didn't reply; he was too preoccupied to care. He hardly even felt the bruise rising where Rita had punched his arm.

"Here're your clothes, Raven." Karol leaned over and retrieved the wadded-up coat and shirt from behind the couch, then threw them over the older man's shoulder, covering most of his chest. "There. How's that?"

Yuri nodded impatiently. "Good thinking. Okay, one, two, three—" As one, they picked Raven back up and staggered around the couch, toward the entryway.

They made it to the door without further incident. When they paused to rest, though, Rita's voice suddenly rose sharply upstairs. The words were indistinct, but they recognized her tone, and it always preceded something getting blown up.

That was all the encouragement they needed: in a series of beautifully coordinated maneuvers, Yuri pulled Raven aside so Karol could get the door open and push Raven out onto the porch, and held him up as Yuri half-stepped behind them to slam the door shut.

Karol waited a moment, as if to be sure she wasn't following them, then whispered, "Safe at l—_ow_!"

Raven's coat and shirt had slipped down his shoulder, unnoticed, on their way out. When Yuri moved a step forward, the garments fell the rest of the way off, and the uncovered blastia flared like a blue-green beacon in the dark porch.

"Ow. Ow ow, ow," Yuri said conversationally. Supporting Raven on one shoulder, he groped around for the coat, doubled it up, and jammed it back over the blastia.

"Thanks for the warning," grumbled Karol, rubbing his eyes. "You're lucky we didn't drop you."

"It wasn't this bad before!" Shaken out of his reverie, Raven looked down at the greenish circle shining through the thick cloth. "I didn't ask her ta put in a spotlight!" Was this going to be permanent? It'd be handy for going to the bathroom in the middle of the night, but...

"She really fixed the hell out of that thing." Yuri shook his head. "Let's just get you back to the ship before anyone starts asking weird questions." He found Raven's shirt on the doorstep and stuffed it under his coat, blotting out most of the light. "C'mon, you can get dressed later."

Raven sighed. "Yeah. It should be fine once I'm outta the dark." The electric street lamps had come on, so once they stepped away from the porch, it was easy to navigate the paved steps leading down to the docks. No one saw them, either—at least, he didn't see anyone taking particular notice of them, and he hoped like hell it was the same thing.

Ba'ul startled them with a little rumble overhead as they stepped onto the pier. Bemused, Raven raised a hand at the Entelexeia. "Heya, pal," he called, as loud as he could. "Good ta see you, too. I think."

"Yeah, he's saying hi. We were all pretty worried," Yuri said. The younger man was breathing harder than Karol, and gradually supporting less weight, even before they stepped up onto the gangplank. "Judy didn't have any trouble...convincing him to come back for you guys."

Raven smiled. "Too bad I can't return the favor. No one around here makes aer treats, do they? I think that's all he eats."

Repede was waiting on deck. He gave Raven a disapproving look, as if to say treats were not a laughing matter, and moved aside to let them into the cabin.

An oil lamp burned on the table inside; Yuri and Karol hobbled over to the bunk and dropped Raven onto it with groans of relief. Karol sank into the chair, but Yuri collapsed flat on his back like a dead man.

The younger men caught their breath as Raven closed his eyes and took stock of himself. He was light-headed, hungry, and needed to pee, but overall, he was feeling...okay.

...Actually, he didn't really know how he felt. "You guys okay?" Raven asked, just to hear his own voice again.

Yuri's answer was low and hoarse: "You need to lose some weight."

"Yuri didn't get enough sleep last night, and he didn't eat any breakfast." The boy took a long, indignant sip of water from his canteen. "And then he fought all day in the melee, and _then_ he came and helped carry you down here!"

"Well, that was dumb." Raven managed to pull his feet up and scoot into a half-sitting position. "No wonder yer half dead."

"Speak for yourself, old man," retorted Yuri. "At least I can stand on my own."

"Raven's talking just fine," Karol observed. "Can you breathe okay now?" The boy offered him the canteen.

Raven took a sip, handed it back, and realized with a start that Karol was right: for the first time in weeks, he wasn't fighting the urge to cough. He inhaled deeply, just in case, and exhaled on a shaky laugh. "Yer right! Ha! Look at me, Ma, I'm breathin'!"

Karol handed the canteen down to Yuri. "That didn't take very long at all. I—" His expression darkened. "Wait. If it was that easy, why didn't Rita fix you sooner?"

Raven grimaced. "Probably 'cause I wouldn't tell her there was a problem." He should probably take his boots off, or put his clothes on, but...no. Comfortable.

"Are you fixed for good?" Yuri asked, handing the water back up.

"I dunno. She thought there was somethin' else in there..." Raven scratched his stubble. "Remember when ya told me I should see her about my heart, and I specifically said I didn't wanna be in her debt? Well, I still don't, but here we are anyway."

"Hmmm." Yuri turned and propped himself up on one elbow. "Well, it _is_ you we're talking about. If you try to give her anything, she'll probably throw it right back at you." The younger man snorted. "Can't you just hear her going, 'I don't want your money! All I did was save your stupid life'?"

The mimicry was spot-on, and it annoyed Raven so much that he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. "Yeah, well, what do you suggest? We can't all just follow Repede around till we find somethin' ta give away."

Karol's eyes widened at the sudden snap in his tone. "Geez, Raven. He didn't mean it like that."

"Seriously." Yuri grabbed the edge of the table and stood to his full height, the better to glare down at Raven. "I know Rita hasn't made this easy on you, old man, but don't take it out me. And don't change the damn subject, either." He cracked his back in one swift, violent movement. "I get enough crap these days as it is."

Raven debated with himself for about half a second, and decided to go right ahead and change the subject. "See, that's the funny thing about people givin' you crap," he said. "When ya hear the same things over and over, it usually means yer the one with the problem, not the people buggin' you."

Yuri's fingers opened and closed around his sword hilt. "So, my giving Estelle a puppy...that's a problem?"

Raven scowled, letting all his irritation show for once. "Quit playin' dumb, Yuri. She's a princess. She's got stuff ta do, and you're distractin' her. The Council's been frettin' about it for months, so she is, too. Is that simple enough for ya?"

"I know all of that!" The sword hilt slammed into the table's edge, scaring Karol half to death. "So what the hell do I do? Avoid her for the rest of our lives?"

Raven folded his arms behind his head. "Nope. Marry her."

Yuri was stock-still. "I'm serious, old man," he said, almost a whisper.

"So am I, young man," Raven replied without a trace of humor.

Karol looked back and forth between them, and jumped again as the door suddenly creaked. Repede had nosed it open, letting them hear footsteps and female voices on the gangplank. "We'll talk more about this later, Yuri," Raven said in a nearly normal tone. "But I mean it. If yer gonna make stupid mistakes, I'm gonna make ya work for 'em. Got that?"

"Hello—are we interrupting?" Estelle called from the deck.

"Not at all," Raven said gaily, waving the princess inside. "We're just havin' some boy talk. C'mon in." He craned his neck around the side of the bunk. "Where's Rita?"

"She's packing," Judith told him. "Your bags, too. She said she'd only be a minute." The Krityan gave them each a long, close. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"We're fine," Yuri mumbled. He threw himself onto his back and folded his arms under his head. "How's Rita doing?"

"She didn't cry very much," Estelle said, sounding almost disappointed. "I think she just needs a little time to herself." The princess took the seat Karol offered her, facing Raven. "She said you should be feeling better already. Are you still coughing?"

Raven shook his head. "Weak as water, but that's all."

"Good." Estelle scooted closer. "I'm supposed to heal you a little, so hold still..." She clasped her hands and concentrated, golden light rising around her chair.

The spell was very nicely controlled, sending no more than a pulse of gentle warmth down his limbs. The princess cocked her head in concern as he checked himself over. "Was that too much?"

"Not at all. That was great," he assured her, patting his now-bruiseless arm. "Thanks."

"Really? I'm glad to hear it." Estelle beamed at him.

It hurt, but Raven still had to smile back. For such a smart person, he thought, Yuri was remarkably stupid.

Judith moved the lamp away from the edge of the table, found another lamp stored under the bunk, and set it beside the first. "Are we circling around from Dahngrest before we head back?"

"Wha...oh. Nah, don't bother." Damn. He'd forgotten about that.

"Dropping your cover?" Yuri tapped his feet hard against the bunk. "Raven's supposed to be back at the Union, Schwann's sleeping it off in Zaphias—right? Or did you make something else up while we were gone?"

"Keep yer pants on," Raven said pleasantly. "As it happens, ol' Raven just dropped by Union HQ ta get somethin' for Rita. Then he walked back here and hitched a ride to the capitol with everyone."

Yuri grunted. "It doesn't match up. Someone has to know you were here the whole time."

"Just the kid next door. Fifty Gald'll solve that." Probably. "Anyone who suspects it can find out if they dig hard enough. I'm just tryin' ta—ah, there she is."

Someone was stomping up the gangplank, which clattered into place as Repede trotted inside and retreated to the far wall. "Rita?" Estelle ventured.

"Yeah." They heard the ship's lines being untied and coiled up carelessly on deck, then her voice raised to ask, "How are you feeling, old man?"

"Uh...pretty good." Was she angry or not? Raven glanced around for help, but all he got were shrugs and encouraging nods. "I'm not coughin' anymore." He fiddled with the clothes over his shoulder, wishing he'd bothered to put them on.

"Excellent." Rita walked in and slammed two bags onto the table, just missing the lamps. She was back in her familiar red coat, hair down and still damp. If her eyes were red, too, she was moving too fast for him to tell.

"How're you doing?" Karol asked cautiously.

Rita glanced up, then ripped open her satchel and began pulling out sheets of paper. "Raven's got a condition called mitral regurgitation. I'm not sure I can fix it."

The only sound in the room was the _Fiertia _creaking as Ba'ul lifted the ship out of the water.

"Come again?" said Yuri.

"What does that mean, exactly?" Judith asked.

"How long does he have?" Karol and Estelle said at nearly the same time.

Raven was suddenly very, very tired. "Explain. Please," he added.

The mage shuffled through the papers, but he didn't think she was looking for anything so much as keeping her hands busy. "It's a pretty common thing," she said briskly. "Basically, each time your heart pumps, a little of the blood goes backward instead of forward. If it happens long enough, your heart stops working. That's all there is to it."

Karol shook his head in angry confusion. "It's a just leak, right? I thought you fixed it. That's what you said when we came in! Right?"

"What I found was a little tear in one of the arteries." Rita set the papers down with a rattling thump. "I figured from his symptoms that something was wrong to begin with, and getting hit in the joust ripped open the leak. That, I could fix." She moved her goggles back a little, to no purpose. "But he could get more leaks again, at any time, from a much smaller injury, and I won't be able to patch them all."

"Why not?" Raven couldn't help asking.

Rita kept her eyes on the table. "Because, whatever your heart's made of, the material is degrading. The stuff he used wasn't meant to last this long. And I don't know what it is."

The ship creaked beneath their feet. Raven usually found it soothing, but not now.

"What're you going to do, then?" Judith asked.

The mage thought about it for a while. "I'm going to buy him more time," she said resolutely. "I think I know how to clip it back together to get the valve going. First, I need to work out a way to keep his blood pumping while I find out how to replace the parts that don't work." She picked up the papers again, and set them down. "It'll just take time, and patience, assuming he has both."

That did it. "Could ya please not talk about me like I'm not here?" Raven asked plaintively.

She looked at him, and he flinched. But Rita didn't do anything; she just picked the papers back up and started rolling them between her hands.

Estelle cleared her throat. "Will he be all right to go back tonight?"

Looking back down at the papers, Rita gave a one-sided shrug. "He can get up to his room if he takes it easy. The banquet tomorrow shouldn't be a problem, either, unless he does something stupid."

"How'd he get better so fast?" Karol wrinkled his nose. "I mean, you cut him open this morning, and Estelle barely healed him at all just now."

"I didn't cut him open, stupid," Rita snapped. Before Raven could stop her, she leaned over and snatched the clothes from over his shoulder, exposing the over-bright blastia to the rest of the room. It wasn't as bad as on the porch, but even the mage had to cover her eyes for a moment.

"There's that, too," Yuri noted dryly. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"I—it just means he's healthy. That's all." She gestured impatiently at the blastia. "You see how it all looks like one piece? You can actually slide the plates apart like puzzle pieces to get inside. Then it slides back together without hurting him."

"Interesting," Judith murmured. Raven tried not to mind how they all leaned in for a closer look, but it was difficult, even with Judith's boobs a few inches away.

"I want to show you guys how it works, in case anything happens when I'm not around," Rita said. To their surprise, instead of taking the empty chair near the bunk, the girl clambered over Raven's legs and crouched right beside him; to Raven's further embarrassment, she leaned in to address him as if they were still alone in her room. "I know you hate this, old man, but I'd rather not be the only person who can do it. Can I give 'em a demonstration?"

"Uh..." Crap, even Repede was staring. Raven shifted uncomfortably away from her. "Do ya really have to? It's not like anyone else would know what to do once it opened."

She shrugged. "You never know." Her eyes were still puffy, and presumably red; the blastia's greenish light made it hard to tell. "I oiled the edges before I put them back in, so it might slide around easier this time. I won't take any out, either. It's up to you."

When it became apparent that Rita was waiting for him to answer, and wouldn't tackle him again, he found he couldn't say no. "Okay. Make it quick."

Rita almost smiled at him, but not quite. "I will, I promise." The mage turned and beckoned their friends closer. "Pay attention, you guys. I'll only do this once." Her fingers spread over the blastia in a loose circle. Raven watched the shadows move on the far wall as she pushed gently and turned her wrist. "You'll feel the grooves if you push in like this. Go counterclockwise, ease it up into the other grooves, and...voila. Now you can move the pieces around each other in this wider circle. See?"

They saw, all right. Their expressions ranged from mild interest to utter disgust. "Ugh," was Estelle's opinion. The princess had to turn and sit down, face averted.

"What's that red membrane?" Judith asked, pointing far back into the blastia.

"I think it's there to protect his lungs while the blastia's open," Rita answered. She indicated something else he couldn't see. "Down there is the equipment that pumps blood, and here's the blastia itself. You can see where it was leaking here, and here..."

Karol had turned away, too, but Yuri and Judith crouched for a better look. The Krityan was so close that her chest was level with Raven's eyes; he gave it a leisurely inspection, then glanced over at Rita. Her hair had looked much better in the braid.

Rita's gaze flicked up and caught his. She tilted her head, and suddenly waved the others away. "So, that's how it works. Show's over." The mage rearranged her fingers over the plates and began easing them back into place. "Pull 'em down together, and it'll all pop back up on its own. Turn it back, it clicks, and...there."

The whole thing had taken about thirty seconds. Raven managed a grin of sheer relief. "In case ya couldn't tell, she's had a lotta practice."

"Well, someone had to figure it out," she said sharply. "And the day I can't fix a blastia is the day I quit being a mage, so shut up."

Yuri chuckled. "Hey, he's not dead yet. That's impressive enough."

"Yeah. I guess so." Rita put her hand back over his heart, and an unexpected note of warmth crept into her voice. "Poor old guy. I'm really glad I could help."

Raven was so stunned that he couldn't even hear what she said next. Blood pounded fiercely in his ears, and he might have passed out if she hadn't looked up at him right then and realized her mistake. "No! Your _blastia_! Not you! I don't even—I'd—ugh!" She thumped him hard on the shoulder and leapt past him, stumbling to her feet. "You moron!"

They watched her storm out on deck and slam the door, leaving dumbfounded silence in her wake. "Why would we think she meant Raven?" asked Karol, thoroughly bewildered. "That was weird."

"Well, she...I don't know." Estelle pursed her lips. "She was being awfully familiar, don't you think?"

Yuri shrugged. Judith smiled – almost a smirk – but didn't say anything.

Raven made a noncommittal noise and bent to retrieve his clothes, hoping no one could get a good look at his face. "Help me get Schwanned up, would ya, Karol?"

"Getting changed? We'll just go see how Rita's doing," Judith said, and Estelle leapt to follow her out of the cabin.

"That was interesting," Yuri muttered. He sat down heavily in one of the chairs, narrowing his eyes at Raven. "What you said earlier—were you serious?"

"'Bout you 'n Estelle? Dead serious." Raven wriggled one boot off. "I can tell ya why, too. You've just gotta visit a sick old Captain so we can talk about it in private at the castle."

"I hope Rita calms down before tomorrow night. You think she'll be okay?" Karol leaned back and held on so Raven could yank his other boot free.

"I guess so," Raven said carelessly. He kicked his way out of the sweat-soaked pants, peeling off his socks. "She'll be fine once she gets some more sleep."

Yuri propped his feet up on the bunk. "You think?"

"'Course." Raven pulled his bag from the table and made a loud, rude noise as he found Schwann's uniform stuffed carelessly inside. "Maaan, she didn't even try ta fold this!"

"Whatever you say, old man." Yuri's tone was making Raven nervous. Thankfully, the younger man didn't pursue the subject any further; instead, he stood and said, "I'm gonna head outside. You sneaking into the palace alone again, or do you need some help?"

"I'll manage." It was true: not only was he feeling stronger already, his mind was already sifting through a half dozen plans to get up to the castle with minimal effort. Requisitioning another Knight's horse in the city would do nicely; if he got an escort, too, he wouldn't be expected to move too fast, _and _they'd help him upstairs. Sometimes, it was downright handy to be a Captain.

"Good deal. Sounds like we're here," Yuri said, and walked out onto the deck.

Karol soon followed, leaving Raven—no, Schwann alone in the cabin. The uniform still fit, but it felt horribly constrictive, especially after Raven's loose shirt...or lack thereof. Now, to take his hair down, and comb it into some semblance of neatness—

The Captain thought of braids, and permitted himself a small, tense smile. But it didn't last; he folded one of his handkerchiefs, tucked it into the front of his uniform, and sat down to wait for the others to disembark. It was going to be a long night yet.

* * *

A/N: More to come later, and quicker, now that the fun is starting. :3


	11. Chapter 11

**XI.**

When Estelle and Judith came out on deck, they found Rita hanging most of the way over the side of the ship, chin resting on her arms. "Are you okay, Rita?" Judith inquired from a safe distance. The mage looked more sulky than suicidal, but it always paid to be careful.

Rita didn't move, except to lift one finger and point it straight downward. "Check this out."

Her friends glanced at each other, shrugged, and came closer to the railing, following her gaze over the side.

There was a long pause.

"Oh, dear," Estelle said weakly.

"This could be a problem," Judith agreed.

"I just wanted to get inside and get some sleep, dammit!" Rita scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve, but that only made the stinging worse. "Why does today suck so hard?"

They knew better than to answer. In gloomy silence, the three watched a crowd gather below them, right where the _Fiertia_ always landed outside the lower quarter. Brave Vesperia usually had an audience when they disembarked, but this was ridiculous; instead of staying in the streets, hundreds of people were streaming out of Zaphias and milling around in aimless excitement, with more coming every minute.

Few of them had brought lamps or torches, and no one seemed to think the ship would need a clear patch of ground before it could land. Thus, some of the Knights and guild members on patrol around the city were leaving their posts to act as crowd control; now there were huge gaps in the city's last line of defense against monsters, some of which would probably be attracted by all the noise.

And for what? So people could gawk at something they'd already seen dozens of times!

On one hand, it was kind of flattering. On the other, more dominant hand, Rita wanted to strangle every last one of them.

"Bet they'll blame us for this," she said sourly, kicking the side of the ship hard enough to hurt her foot. "How the hell are we supposed to get down without squashing anyone? They're gonna take forever to move!"

Estelle put a hand to her mouth. "You know...from now on, maybe we should land outside the perimeter. This isn't safe anymore."

"Screw that!" The princess flinched. Rita tried to soften her tone: "Of course this isn't safe, Estelle. But I'm not going to walk through monsters just because people are too stupid to get out of our way."

They were directly over the field now, and the crowd's noise suddenly became a roar—ah, the ship was silhouetted against the crescent moon. It probably did look pretty cool from the ground; she'd give them that.

"Could you stop for a minute, Ba'ul?" Judith asked. He rumbled assent, and they braced for the momentary heaviness that came with a midair halt.

Rita kicked the boards again, and again. "Maybe we could just squash a few of 'em. People learn best by example, right? We only have to get five, maybe ten, tops."

"Rita!" Estelle protested.

Judith considered the idea for a moment, then shook her head. "No, that would be murder. What if we asked Ioder to put up a fence or paint the ground to let people know where they're going to be in danger?"

"I like my idea better," Rita muttered.

"What's up?" Yuri asked from the cabin door. When no one answered, he walked over to see what they were looking at, and did a double take. "Well...crap." The patrol members had gotten more torches lit, and started herding people to different sides of the field; it was going to take a while to clear enough room, though, and even longer to make sure people stayed put.

"Fun, huh?" Rita suddenly wanted to spit over the side. She'd have done it, too, if Estelle hadn't been standing right there.

"Yep." Yuri plopped onto the deck, yawned, and stretched out on his side. "Awesome." He closed his eyes. "Wake me when we get there."

A moment later, Karol came out to join them. Before he could ask what they were looking at, Rita turned her head and jerked a thumb at the cabin. "Hey. Go check on the old man. Tell him he may not be able to sneak out this time. Oh, and get my bag, and my notes."

Karol got a good look at her expression and gulped. "Sure. Sounds great." The boy risked a peek over the railing first, said, "Yikes," and ran back inside, slamming the door behind him.

Repede came over to curl up beside Yuri; Estelle seated herself against the cabin, while Judith sidled closer to Rita and said, very quietly, "You know, I think most of them are here to see you."

"What?" If it had been anyone else, the mage would have thought she was being teased, and reacted accordingly. But Judith was resting her chin on one hand, looking thoughtfully at the ragged rectangle forming below them. "Why me?" Rita demanded.

"Well..." Judith gave her a quick, strange little look. "Everyone saw you at the joust, remember? The Schwann Brigade's been talking nonstop about how you saved their captain's life. You're a hero." The Krityan stretched her arms out in front of her. "That's also why there's so much stuff in your room now. You're not allergic to flowers, are you?"

"Are you serious?" Rita looked down again. Now she _really _wanted to spit over the side. "Okay, fine. I'm a hero. Do I have to do anything? I just want to go back up to the castle, not be stared at by a zillion people!"

Judith smiled. "You'll be fine. The rest of us are getting our share of attention, too." She tapped the boards near Yuri's head. "Isn't that right, Yuri?"

"Good thing I'm asleep and can't hear you," he murmured, eyes closed. "So I can't say, 'Ha ha, Rita. See what it feels like?'" Yuri yawned behind his free hand. "'Cause I'm asleep."

The mage stomped right next to his ear. "Good! So I don't have to point out that I'm being singled out for my good work, while _you're_ being singled out because you're a stupid—"

"Hey, Rita!" Karol came jogging out of the cabin with her bag and papers in hand. "Here you go." He handed them to her with exaggerated care, stepped to the side, and peered over. "Should we start coming down now?"

"Not so fast," Rita said, and crouched beside Repede, tapping him on the collar. "Hey, dog. Could you hold onto something for me?"

Repede raised his head as she folded all the notes together, new and old, rolling and pinching the edges till she had a thick, narrow pack of papers. To her relief, he allowed her to pull his leather harness back and tuck the notes inside, snug between his shoulders.

"What's that?" Karol asked.

"The other mages really want this information," Rita explained, patting the harness to check for telltale crinkling. "They could use it to pull an Alexei on someone else, so I'm not sharing." Satisfied, she let go and folded her arms. "They know I'm hiding my notes, but I doubt they'll look on Repede. What do you guys think?"

Repede barked twice in what sounded like agreement. Yuri's eyes were still closed, but she saw him nod approval.

"I wouldn't have thought of that," Judith said admiringly. "But then, I wouldn't have thought to try anything you've done with his heart."

Karol wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, talk about gross." He looked at the cabin. "So...those papers will help you fix his blastia?"

Crap. Rita examined her thumbnail, picking out a strand of blue fur. "Basically, yeah. I know exactly what information I don't have, and that's always a good start."

"But you can fix him, right?" he persisted, just in case she wasn't feeling bad enough.

"Like I said, I'm not really sure I can," Rita told him honestly, ignoring the squeeze in her chest as she stood up. "All I can do is try."

"I know you're doing your best. I really do. But..." Karol swallowed hard.

"But he's the closest thing to a dad you've got, and you don't want to lose him. I got it." Rita knew she sounded callous, but it was better than busting out crying again. "I'm doing all I can, okay? It's not like I want him to die, either."

"Okay, okay." With a discreet swipe at his nose, Karol wandered to the side of the ship. "Geez, look at that. I haven't seen this many people since that last big show in Dahngrest. We're as popular as actors."

"We saved the world, you idiot," Rita snapped. "I sure hope people like us as much as a bunch of pansies dancing around in stupid costumes."

"Yeah... Yeah!" Karol slapped the railing, all his ebullience suddenly restored. "C'mon, let's land already! I promised Raven I'd distract everyone so no one'll see him get down."

"Whatever works," Yuri said underfoot, and sprang up as Judith checked the ground below. "Lookin' good?"

"As always." Judith smiled, unabashed, and called to Ba'ul, "Down we go!"

They descended to wild cheering, only partially muted by the mounted Knights who had come down from the city to help restore order. Rita had to hand it to them: they'd gotten things under control pretty fast, reinforcing the lines around the ship's landing spot and forming a protective ring around the onlookers.

The Knights would also be handy for wading through all those people, the prospect of which was starting to scare her. Why hadn't she brought her flying machine? She'd be flashing hundreds of people, but it'd be worth it to go straight over their heads. Too late now.

Ba'ul touched down with the gentlest pressure on the ship's keel, holding just low enough for the gangplank to reach the ground. "After you," Yuri said cheerfully to Rita.

There was no point delaying the inevitable. She made a rude gesture at Yuri, then took a deep breath, stepped up into the light—and recoiled as a wave of sound crashed over her. The sheer volume hit her like a handful of stones, far more painful than gratifying. "Shit," Rita said involuntarily, and felt more self-conscious than ever; luckily, no one could hear.

"Go on," Yuri and Judith said, almost as one. Estelle stepped up, too, and took her arm, so that the noise got louder, but she felt less exposed. The princess put on a smile, nodding encouragement.

Feeling only a little better, Rita tried not to look scared, or angry, or tired as hell, and followed her friend down with as much dignity as she could muster. Whatever else might happen, she would _not_ make Estelle look bad.

Partly out of self-defense, and partly from concern, Rita focused on Estelle instead of the mass of humanity below them. The princess' smile was fixed, and her grip on Rita's arm was much too tight. Come to think of it, she hadn't said a word in several minutes, either. "Are you okay?" Rita asked worriedly.

"No. I'm pretty mad, but it's mostly not your fault," Estelle replied, and picked up her pace as Rita tried to stop. "Come on, we have to—"

_"NAN!"_

Karol's bellow of joy silenced everyone in a hundred-yard radius. As they jerked around to look, he made a spectacular leap from the ship onto the gangplank, took two bounding steps past the young women, and flung his arms out in appeal. "HEY! NAN! WHERE'D YOU GO?" He turned to the Knights on their left. "I just saw her! Did you see a girl with brown hair going like this—" He grabbed a sideways chunk of his own hair. "Black clothes? Really cute? I think I—HEY!" Pause. "Oh, no, not her, sorry. Sorry! But you're cute, too." Laughter. "Hey, seriously! Have any of you guys seen Nan?"

"There's a distraction for you," Yuri said to no one in particular. One foot on the plank, he took the opportunity to glance back at the cabin. The door had drifted open, as if by accident. "I'm sure it'll be even more distracting in a minute," Yuri said, louder, and the door clicked shut.

Karol was now pointing here and there, repeating a description of his girlfriend for anyone who cared to listen. As it happened, he had several hundred people caring to listen; his antics were so infectious that Rita and Estelle almost didn't need their escort of Knights against the press of people. They got stares, and shouts, and a few grabby hands as they stepped down, but the majority of the crowd was now looking elsewhere. She really owed Karol one.

He was still yelling, but making his way toward Zaphias, dragging hundreds in his wake. Some standing room was now open for those who had been on the far side of the _Fiertia_; as they surged forward to see what was happening, the perimeter closed up behind them, funneling everyone back toward the city. There couldn't be anyone left on that side of the ship, Yuri thought as the last few Knights came up to call "All clear!" down their line.

Sure enough – but only because he was watching closely – Yuri saw the cabin door slip open and shut. In the dark, he heard someone throwing down the line of rope that Raven had tied to the railing months ago; a few seconds later, there was the soft thud of rope being hurled back onto the deck from the ground.

Damn, that was fast. Yuri just hoped the old man's heart could take it.

He and Judith had just reached the ground when a bone-piercing whistle sounded from the darkness behind them. "First line," Yuri said. Judith nodded as people around them cried out, clutched each other's hands, and started running towards the city.

"Don't panic," a woman called from some distance away. They saw Sodia ride out to what was now the middle of the crowd, one hand raised. "There are three more lines between us and the monsters," she said sternly. "Move quickly, but do not run, and do _not _panic, no matter what you—"

A second, even louder whistle, layered over the first. "Nothing to worry about. Move along," Sodia repeated. "You, there. Keep moving. Move along, all of you."

Yuri didn't like her tone, but he held his peace: people were visibly calming down as she kept up the orders. "Nice work, lieutenant," he called as they walked by.

"If anyone is hurt, it will be your fault," Sodia said without looking down. She nudged her mount a few steps away and raised her voice. "Move along. Back to the city."

Yuri grimaced. "Always a pleasure."

Judith tossed her spear from hand to hand. "I hope I get to fight her at least once in the tournament."

"What? Oh. Right." Yuri had completely forgotten about that. "Fought her once this morning. She's a lot faster than she looks." That was an understatement: tired as he'd been, Sodia had knocked him flat on his back in less than fifteen seconds. It'd be a while before he could think of it without wincing.

"Oh, I tried her a few times. I was faster." The Krityan smirked. "Don't forget, you and I might get to fight, too."

He'd thought of that, and he wasn't at all sure he could beat her. "Yeah, that might be...interesting."

"Especially if you got some sleep first," Judith said pointedly.

The third whistle came as they approached the city limits. Most of the guards behind them turned back to rejoin the patrols; luckily, the civilians were almost back in Zaphias by now.

"Over here!" they heard Rita yell. She was waving at them from the foot of the ramp leading up to the lower quarter. Nearby, Estelle was turning to speak to someone who had just ridden down to meet them. It was...huh.

How in the ever-living—

"Welcome back," Schwann said, one hand directing a cluster of Knights behind him to surround the princess. "I trust you had a safe journey, Lady Estellise?"

It was hard not to gape at him, as Rita was doing. Yuri could only imagine that he'd nabbed someone's horse and ridden around the crowd to head them off; in a situation like that, with so many people and the Princess' safety at stake, no one would think it odd for a Captain to be down there in person, or wonder if anyone had seen him ride down from the city in the first place. Who would bother? And if they did, who'd believe he had actually come from the ship?

Tricky bastard. No wonder he'd kept this up for so many years.

"Fancy meeting you here," Yuri said coolly, and Judith nodded in greeting.

"Sir Schwann! How nice to see you. I _do _hope you're feeling better." Rita was furious, but doing her best to play along in public; it was almost funny to watch. "The next time we visit, please, _please _feel free to stay put." She glared up at him, fists on hips. "I seem to recall telling you not to exert yourself—does that sound _at all _familiar?"

Yuri had no idea how Schwann kept from laughing. Rita was trying, she really was, but her sarcasm had all the delicate subtlety of a kick in the crotch. On fire.

Judith caught Yuri's eye, and they both had to turn away. Estelle's face was buried in her hands.

Schwann turned his horse and gestured for the Knights to follow. "I had confidence in your work," the Captain said brusquely, surveying the remnants of the crowd. "Shall we return to the castle, Lady Estellise?"

"Just as soon as...Karol!" Estelle waved the boy over with almost hysterical relief. "Karol! Ready to go back?" she asked as he freed himself from a knot of passerby.

"Sure..." Karol leaned heavily on the nearest wall, panting. "Oh, man, I'm gonna be sore tomorrow! I can't believe I—" He looked up and feigned surprise. "Hey, it's Captain Schwann! Are you taking us all back to the castle?"

"Not me. I think I'll stay down here tonight," Yuri said on impulse. "I haven't seen Hanks and everyone else in a while. I'll get better sleep in my own room, too."

"Really?" Estelle couldn't help looking a little hurt. She shrugged, and tried to smile. "Get some rest, then. Please tell everyone I said hello—they're all invited tomorrow night, you know."

"Of course," he said lightly. "I'll see you guys in the morning." Yuri started up the ramp, eyes on his feet. He was ready to drop with exhaustion. Anyone could see that. If it meant he didn't have to look at Estelle, well...

"Yuri," Rita snapped. "What're you—"

"Yuri Lowell," Schwann said over her. "I have something for you." To their surprise, he reached into the front of his uniform – Yuri hoped no one else noticed a flash of blue light – and pulled out a long envelope. "You may find this interesting."

Yuri hadn't meant to stop, but something in Schwann's tone caught his attention. "Really." He stepped over to the Captain's horse, accepting the envelope and turning it over for a better look in the torchlight. His name was written in fine, flowing cursive on the front; there was no wax seal, just a tucked-in flap. "What is this, a letter?" Schwann nodded, and Yuri's curiosity increased. "From who? Anyone I know?"

"I will see you tomorrow night," the Captain said. He turned his head. "Lady Estellise."

"Yes, let's go now." Yuri heard her walk past him, and kept his gaze on the letter as Rita, Judith, and Karol followed. If they said anything to him in passing, he hoped it wasn't important, because he wasn't listening.

That handwriting definitely wasn't Estelle's; it didn't look like Raven's blocky print, either. In a fit of curiosity, Yuri ripped the letter out, unfolded the first sheet, and got his answer immediately: it was dated from this morning, prefaced _Schwann Oltorain, First Captain of the Imperial Knights_. This must've been one of the envelopes he'd seen on Rita's nightstand when they came to pick them up—she'd probably stuffed them into her bag before she left, and Schwann had retrieved this one so he could give it to Yuri. But why now?

"Tricky bastard," Yuri muttered. Of _course_ Schwann had different writing than Raven. And a chill crept down Yuri's back at the thought of those envelopes—of course Schwann would have had things left to say to people, and written them all down in case Rita's operation failed. But, again, why not just tell him in person?

He was thinking too much. That was his problem in a nutshell. Yuri shook himself and resumed his trek toward the lower quarter, folding Schwann's letter as he walked. He'd just get back to his room, read this thing, and go to bed.

Yep. In his own bed, maybe he'd finally be able to relax. No more agonizing all night over what he was going to do when the Council finally decided who Estelle was going to marry. No more debating with himself whether he'd be able to step back and let them stick her with some flaccid little piece of blue-blooded crap, or a rich, decrepit old bastard plotting his way onto the throne. Worrying about it wouldn't change a damn thing.

...Of course, Estelle would have some choice in the matter; her father wasn't around to speak for her, and she was of age. But what did she have to choose from? Nobles!

Nearly beside himself with disgust, Yuri hurried around the edges of the fountain square, keeping out of sight. He trotted up the back stairs to his old room at the inn, one hand on the wall to steady himself.

Repede was waiting for him at the door. Yuri grunted, unlocked it, and felt around in his pocket for matches. "Man, Raven's full of it. Like they'd ever let some kid from the lower quarter have her," he said aloud, so bitter that he could taste it.

He stepped inside, struck a match, and held it to his lamp. It didn't take. Yuri swore under his breath and picked another one. "What do you think?" he said to the dog. "Would they ever let a guild member marry their last princess?" The wick caught. Yuri shook the match out and tossed it to the floor. "How about a guild member who's been known to murder Councilmen and Knights who pissed him off? Sound good to you?"

Repede turned around and curled up on the floor. Yuri sighed. "All right, all right. I need to relax, and we both need some sleep. Let's just see what Sir Raven has to say." The young man shook out the letter and fell onto his bed with it, holding the paper up to the light.

_If you are reading this, Yuri, I am either dead, or incapable of explaining myself in full. Whichever may be the case, and whatever you choose to do with this information, please hear me out before you make any rash decisions. If I am alive, rest assured that I wish only the best for the both of you, and have written this letter to help you towards that end.  
_

Yuri sat up straighter. _  
_

_If I am dead, _

There was a single line drawn through that phrase, and several scratched-out lines after that, where he must have changed his mind, or just given up entirely. Yuri managed to read a couple of them, and felt his eyebrows twitch. "Huh." Well, that confirmed some of his weirder suspicions.

...Rita? Really?

_To secure her hand, you must act sooner than later, but not until you fully understand the ramifications. _

Heart pounding, Yuri stopped to look at the rest of the letter. The whole thing was written on the front and back of three long sheets of paper, and the writing got smaller as it went. His eyes hurt already, but he swallowed his hopes, and kept reading.

By the end of the first page, his hands were shaking. Even when he heard voices outside his open window, and Ted saying, "I think there's a light on in his room," and an eager knock on the door, Yuri didn't look up.

"Is he okay?" someone else asked.

"Dunno," Hanks answered. "He'll come out when he's ready. You can wait here if you want, but I'm going to bed."

Twenty minutes later, Yuri flung the door open. Muttering under his breath, he crammed the letter into his belt, grabbed his satchel from under the bed, and kicked the door shut behind him. Then he opened it again – "Sorry, Repede" – and closed it carefully.

"There he is," Hanks said from the foot of the stairs. He ambled over, lifting his lamp as Yuri hurried downstairs. "What's the rush? You just got back. Everyone's waitin' to see you."

"Sorry, Hanks, gotta get to the castle!" Yuri clapped the old man on the back. "Are you guys coming to the banquet?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Hanks replied. "Tell the young lady I—hmm." Yuri had gone right by him and taken off at a sprint. "Time I got to bed anyway," the old man grumbled, and said to Repede. "Make sure he stays out of trouble, hear?"

Repede woofed, and trotted after Yuri in mild annoyance. It had been a long day, but this was a promising development; it was worth the walk to see what Yuri was going to do. If nothing came of it, though, someone was going to get bitten.

* * *

A/N: I split this chapter off here; lots more is already written. SOON


	12. Chapter 12

**XII.**

"All right. What's wrong with Estelle?" Rita asked Judith. The princess was riding next to Schwann at the head of the group, but they had elected to walk.

Judith grimaced. "The usual. You saw her last night, right, Karol?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, she'd been crying."

"What, is she still worried about Yuri?" Rita thought about it as they trudged up toward the public quarter. "I guess I didn't help much back there when I said he was being stupid..." Great. She'd been too self-absorbed to think about Estelle's feelings, after all Estelle had done to help _her_ feel better. On top of everything else, now Rita felt like a total jerk.

"It's not just that," Judith said. "You can ask her when we get inside."

Rita scowled. What else could possibly be wrong?

"Karol," a girl said beside them.

"Nan!" Karol turned, opening his arms. "There you are! I've been looking all—"

Nan cut him off with a fist in the gut. "I know you've been looking all over for me!" she snarled, and seized him by the shirt before he could hit the ground. "Do you know how I know? Because the whole city is telling me so!"

"But I...uh...help!" Karol flailed his arms as Nan turned and began hauling him away. It was no use: she had grown as much as he had in the past year, and was still stronger. "I can explain!" was the last they heard before he disappeared down a dark side street.

"He's dead," Rita observed. She shook her head at the Knights who were whispering to each other about whether they'd just permitted an attack on the Lady Estellise's guests. "It's okay, guys. He earned it. Don't worry, she'll let him go eventually."

When they got to the castle, Schwann announced to the gate guards that the Lady Estellise had returned. He turned to address to his Knights and suddenly lurched sideways, nearly falling out of the saddle.

"Whoa!" Rita ran forward as Schwann waved off his subordinates' attempts to help. "That does it," she said through clenched teeth, and grabbed the horse's bridle. "You, and you!" Rita pointed to several random Knights. "I want you to help Sir Schwann down, and I want you to get him back to his room. I don't care if you have to carry him—"

"I'm all right, Miss Mordio," Schwann objected.

"I don't care if you have to carry him up there," she continued, louder, because the hell with him. "Get him to his room safely, and _stay_ there to make sure no one bothers him for the rest of the night. You got it?"

"That's all right, young lady," one of the older Knights said, in what he probably thought was a soothing voice. "The Captain will decide whether he needs assistance or not."

"The Captain will listen to me for once, or he will drop dead of heart failure," Rita retorted. "And if you speak to me like that again, I'll find some way to make _you _drop dead. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," Schwann answered for the shocked Knight. He swung one leg over the side of his horse and slid down, leaning against the animal for balance. "Please do me the honor of a visit once you've had some rest." He inclined his head. "Till then—you heard her, men!"

"Sir!" To Rita's relief, a party of Knights split off from their group as they headed inside, trailing upstairs after the Captain.

"I wish you wouldn't do things like that, Rita," Estelle said on their way up the opposite staircase.

"It's his fault for pushing it." Rita shook her head. "Even with you healing him, there's no telling how much that moron's heart can take right now."

The princess sighed, and picked up her skirt to walk faster. "If you say so."

Rita's heart sank—she was stressing Estelle out again. "You know," Rita said tentatively, reaching up to touch her friend's shoulder, "I didn't mean to upset you just now, or earlier, on the ship. It's just..." A few servants stopped to bow and ask if they needed anything; she waited for Estelle to send them away before she finished, "I know you like Yuri and he's being stupid and it sucks. And...I'm sorry."

Estelle gave her a sweet, pained smile. "It's not your fault, Rita. To tell you the truth, things have gotten a lot worse since you were last here. I talked to some Council members the other day...ah! I almost forgot!" She brightened as they approached the door to Rita's room. "You have to see this!" the princess exclaimed. "Close your eyes first. Come on, close them!"

Right. Flowers. Bemused, Rita shut her eyes and let Estelle take her by the hand. "Okay..."

The door opened, and Estelle pulled her inside with a trill of "Ta-da! Look at this!"

Rita opened her eyes and felt her jaw drop. There weren't just flowers in here, though every available surface was covered with them: an entire ecosystem of expensive crap had taken over her room. Scented candles were lit everywhere, glinting off elegant little boxes of jewelry, or candy, or whatever, nestled amongst more bottles and baskets and vases. Packages littered the bed, too, supporting a stack of calling cards.

"Wha...?" Rita didn't even know where to start. The room smelled like someone had broken a perfume bottle in a flower shop, then set the whole place on fire. "What the hell's all this?" She poked a box at random. "Where did it even come from? Is everyone _that _happy I saved Schwann?"

"Three reasons, Rita," Judith said, shutting the door behind them. She put one hand on her hip, holding up her other index finger. "One: you not only failed to scare people off at the dance, some of them really liked you. So you've got some admirers from there."

"Admirers?" The thought made her shudder. "How do I get rid of them? Can I burn any of this stuff, or should I just send it back and hope they take the hint?"

Estelle sighed again. "Please don't burn your presents, Rita."

"Two," the Krityan continued serenely, "you saved the First Captain of the Imperial Knights from death and dishonor, right in front of a huge crowd." Judith picked up a fallen rose petal, holding it up to inspect the delicate veins around its edges. "A few people still think he was faking it, but you were so mad that everyone else was convinced."

"The Knights are all very grateful," Estelle added. "This one's from Flynn, see?" She hefted a bowl of red-and-white water lilies. "And that one, over there, is from the whole Schwann Brigade."

"Holy..." Rita hadn't realized that the heap of flowers on the sideboard was a single arrangement. Fire lilies, irises, white and yellow roses, every color of carnation, sprays of plum blossom, and several others she couldn't identify were piled into a gold-woven basket wide enough to hold a small child. It was bigger, prettier, and probably more expensive than every other flower in the room combined.

"Here!" The princess fished an elegant little card out of the basket and handed it to Rita. "They wanted to give it to you in person, but you left too early."

The card even had gilt edges. Was that really necessary? "'To Rita Mordio. With greatest respect and eternal gratitude for your incomparable service,'" she read aloud, and snorted. "There goes a few months of their pay. I thought it was the thought that counts?"

She got a couple of exasperated looks for that one. "It is, and that's how they chose to express it," Estelle scolded her. "You're not the easiest person to thank, you know. You should be happy that so many people took the time to send you something."

"Yeah, yeah." The mage turned the card over, grateful that no one else was around to hear her being ungracious. "I guess this was pretty nice of them." She'd have to keep the basket, at the very least.

Was she expected to thank them for the thank-you present? Or did this make them even? She had no idea. Maybe Schwann could tell her, after she got done kicking his ass.

Rita scratched her cheek with a gilt corner. "Okay, then. The flowers are from Knights, and the other crap is from those old guys I already turned down at the dance?" She liked that idea, but it didn't explain the sheer quantity of stuff in here.

Sure enough, Judith said, "Nope," and picked up a crystal vase on the back of the nightstand. "Most of the flowers and jewelry are from your other admirers." The Krityan held up a hand as Rita started to speak. "Believe it or not, the third reason you're getting all these things is that people think Schwann is interested in you. Romantically."

The card crumpled in Rita's grip. Her lips moved, but no words got past the shriek building in her chest.

"Please don't start yelling, Rita," the princess said quickly, and Rita obediently swallowed hard. "It doesn't mean anything. It's just people talking—"

"They do that, you know," Judith said, tipping the vase to examine its base.

Rita had to swallow again before she could choke out, "B-but...he's..._old_!" She flung the card to the floor. "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever—"

"Is it?" Judith asked suddenly. "From what I've seen, his body doesn't look very old at all."

"Judith!" Estelle protested.

"I—I—ewwww!" Rita had to walk a couple of rapid circles around the room, hands pressed to her temples in...disgust. Yes. Total disgust. "Why would you even say that?"

"What? I had no idea he was in such good shape," the Krityan remarked, setting the vase down. "It's a shame he can't show it off the way Yuri does. He's actually got better musculature."

"_Any_way," Estelle said, scandalized, "you shouldn't worry about it, Rita." She picked up a lace fan and flicked it open. "Captain Schwann hadn't attended a single ball since the war ended, so when he asked you to dance the other night, that really got people's attention. Then there was the joust..."

"I knew I should've let him croak." Estelle wasn't the only one getting warm in here. Rita dipped her fingers in a nearby flower-bowl and rubbed her cheeks with the cool water. "So now all these guys are trying to get into my pants so they can get bragging rights over Schwann? Is that it?" No wonder Judith had chosen not to tell her this on the ship. She'd probably have started throwing fireballs into the crowd.

"Not just that. You were famous to begin with," Judith pointed out. "After Estelle's book came out, and the dance, and the joust, it's only natural that you're getting so much attention."

"What about you, Judith?" Rita shoved some packages aside so she could sit on the bed. "You only had a couple hundred guys after you at the dance. Didn't you get anything like this?"

"Of course," her friend said, much to Rita's relief. "I got more cards than you, and almost as many flowers. Mostly red roses."

The mage exhaled and flopped onto her back. "Subtle. At least mine were more creative than that."

"Except for this one." Judith retrieved the crystal vase and tilted its enormous red-ruffled rose toward them. "It's silk, not real. I'm not sure what that says about his intentions, whoever it is—there's no card."

Rita sat up, took it in both hands, and sloshed the heavy vase from side to side. "Huh. If it's fake, why's there water in it?"

"I've heard of these!" Estelle leaned in for a closer look. "The water's scented. The stem wicks it up to the top and makes it smell like a real flower. See?"

The petals did have a nice scent. "What a stupid idea," Rita said. "Why not just get a real one?" Her name was carved along the base, like on Estelle's birthday whistle. It was beautiful, but something made her feel uneasy as she turned it this way and that. "Weird. Well, whoever it was, I hope he knows it's not gonna get him anywhere."

"Probably." Judith moved another armful of gifts aside and sat down next to her. "Speaking of which—don't take this the wrong way, Rita, but...are you sure Raven doesn't think any differently of you than he used to?"

"Raven?" Rita paused with the rose cupped in one hand. "Like, romantically? Hell no. We've just been fighting most of the time, same as always." Without thinking, she tugged at her hair, still damp and loose from washing it out. "Why do you ask?"

Estelle thumped her fist into her palm, a gesture she'd picked up from Yuri. "That's right! I was going to ask if Raven had braided your hair for you. It was so cute!" Rita sputtered, and the princess hastened to explain, "It's an old military style, so I thought he must've done it. Right?"

"Right," said Judith. "It looked great on you. You should wear it like that more often, minus the blood."

"Y-yeah?" Rita felt warmer than ever. She plunked the vase onto the nightstand. "It was just...it wasn't a big deal."

The Krityan leaned back on one hand. "Really? I can't imagine you letting him get close enough to—"

"Look, he's old and sick, okay? It's not a big deal," Rita snapped, and pushed to her feet, stalking over to the dresser. "If you guys know a way I can study him without being anywhere near him, I'd love to hear it. In the meantime, I've just gotta get used to it."

"There's studying him, and there's climbing on him in front of everyone," Estelle said sternly. "I know you wanted us to see his blastia, but..."

"Don't worry about it, Estelle." The mage turned her back and began picking apart a bouquet that particularly annoyed her. "I mean, it's not like he'd ever try anything. And if he did?" Rita made a slashing motion with a rose stem.

"That's not it," Judith said, so seriously that Rita half turned to look at her. "When you were showing us his heart, I was down like this—" She leaned forward and motioned at her chest. "He only looked at my boobs for a couple seconds. The rest of the time, he was just looking at you."

He was? "Well, duh," Rita replied after a moment, and jammed the flowers back into the vase. "He really hates having it open. If I was him, I'd be waiting for me to close it, too."

Judith clicked her heels idly on the floor tiles. "No, he wasn't being impatient. It was different than that." She gave Rita another strange look. "You didn't notice?"

Rita shrugged. "Nope," she said, and left it at that. No way she was going to tell them how he'd looked at her when she threw the pill bottle out, or when she'd opened the window, or during the dance—she had definitely noticed those, even if she still had no clue what he'd been thinking.

Why would he pass up a chance to ogle Judith? The idea was utterly ridiculous. But Judith wasn't prone to lying, or imagining things, any more than Rita was herself. So, what was going on?

Her body had its own ideas about that. Rita grabbed another fan and thought very hard about how gross it would be to have Raven and/or Schwann interested in her. Ridiculous, disgusting, stupid, creepy—

"Are you sure Schwann didn't send this?" Judith asked, indicating the silk rose.

"Wh—_yes_, I'm sure!" Resisting the urge to break something, Rita dunked her hand up to the wrist in another bowl and swiped her face, cursing her endocrine system all over again. "He didn't have time between the joust and going home with me, and he wouldn't be that creepy to begin with, and—look, this is stupid! Can't we talk about something else?" She pointed her fan at Estelle. "What were you going to say before? Something about Yuri? Go ahead and tell me while we're all here."

"Um." Caught off guard, Estelle blinked, clasping and unclasping her hands. "Well, yes. I..."

"Let's go sit down," Judith suggested, picking up a candle in each hand. Estelle did, too, and hurried after her into the adjoining room. Rita wet the end of her scarf, then followed them to the low ebony tables, moving more flowers out of their way.

Once they were seated, Estelle took a deep breath. "Did you hear that Ioder's going to announce his engagement at his sixteenth birthday?" she asked Rita.

"Yeah." The mage dabbed at her forehead. "His birthday's in the middle of winter, isn't it?"

"Yes." Estelle fidgeted, picking up one of Judith's vases and putting it down without looking at it. Rita made herself stay still and quiet; the princess was obviously working up to something. "I...um..."

"It's all right, Estelle. I'm sure Rita's not going to overreact," Judith said soothingly.

Far from being offended, Rita felt a stab of gratitude for the Krityan's unflappable presence. How much more upset would Estelle be if Judith hadn't been here to support her? The mage forced a smile. "Whatever you tell me, I won't do anything to embarrass you. And I won't say anything to Yuri if you don't want me to. I promise."

"Good," said Estelle, "because the Council wants me to marry Ioder in the spring."

Rita should have learned her lesson from the ruined card. When she looked down at her hands a few seconds later, she found she had crushed the silk fan. "Why?" she asked faintly.

The princess swallowed hard. "To 'unite the royal bloodlines.' It'd also save them the trouble of picking spouses for each of us. And they wouldn't have to pay for two weddings."

"Cheap old bastards!" Rita slammed the broken fan on the table. "What are the odds they'll just forget about this?"

Estelle shook her head, pressing the back of her hand to her lips.

It took every shred of Rita's remaining self-control not to yell or throw anything. "Estelle, _why _would you marry Ioder? He's a kid! And isn't he your cousin?"

"Second cousin!" The princess covered her face with her hands. "I don't know what to do," she moaned. "I thought I had more time than this!"

"We just heard for sure last night," Judith said, leaning over to pat Estelle's shoulder. "She's not looking forward to telling Yuri about it."

"Yeah, I can see that!" The mage was so upset on Estelle's behalf that she had to get up and start pacing the floor again. "If you tell him, he might freak out and do something stupid. Or he might say he doesn't mind as long as you're with a good guy like Ioder, and you'll really be stuck. But if you don't, he'll find out somewhere else!" In which case, she thought darkly, he might do something _really _stupid. Rita wheeled around, gripping the back of her chair. "Isn't there some way you could get Yuri instead, Estelle?"

"I can't!" Estelle's voice was so raw that Rita cringed. "He's not...he wouldn't even be allowed into the Council chamber!"

"He has to put himself forward as a candidate first. If she married him any other way, it wouldn't be legal," Judith explained to Rita. "And if she entered into an unofficial marriage, they'd strip her of her rank, permanently. It's happened before."

"I'd do it, too," Estelle said, and looked up at both her friends, almost defiantly. "But then..."

"Then the Empire wouldn't have a princess," Judith said. From her tone, Rita guessed they had been through this more than once.

"And there'd only be one heir left," Estelle said slowly. She exhaled. "And if anything happened to Ioder, there could be another war. Relations with the guilds would break down, and everyone all over the world would end up fighting each other again instead of working together to keep monsters out of the cities." Estelle shook her head again. "And I wouldn't be able to do anything, because I wouldn't be a princess anymore. I can't risk that, not even for Yuri."

Rita rocked the chair back and forth as hard as she could. "If you're that paranoid, why don't you just slap a title on him before you get hitched? Problem solved."

Estelle's shoulders hunched. "I...I'm too scared to ask if he'd do it." The mage stared at her, incredulous, and Estelle protested, "I know I should, Rita, but—he _hates _nobles! And we haven't ever talked about...about us, at all. Even if he agreed to—"

Rita cut her off with an exasperated growl. "Yeah, he hates nobles, but guess what, Estelle? He loves you." She drummed her fingers on the chair, feeling more heat rise to her face. "I can't believe I'm the one who has to say it, either. Didn't Judith tell you any of this crap already?"

Judith shrugged, giving the princess another pat. "She needed a second opinion."

"Just lay it all out for him, Estelle," Rita urged her. "I know it's scary, but—"

"The Council wouldn't allow it anyway," Estelle said dully. She closed her eyes until she had gotten herself back under control. "Even the Emperor can't just hand out noble titles," she continued, stronger. "The Council has to ratify a commoner's elevation. It's usually just a formality, but in this case, they'd _never_ let a guild member become a lord, much less marry a princess. I've thought about it for days, and...I don't think it's possible."

Rita said a couple of choice words. "I'm gonna go see about this," she declared, and took a step back. "Don't wait up for me."

"What are you going to do?" Judith asked.

"I don't know. I'll figure it out—without hurting anyone, Estelle, so don't give me that look. Good night." Rita turned on her heel, thought briefly of sleep, and hurried out of the room anyway. Like she'd get any rest while Estelle was looking like that, she thought angrily. She'd go bug Flynn, Ioder, anyone else who might be able to help—she'd wake the whole damn Council if she had to!

* * *

"Lady Mordio?"

Rita stopped at the base of the staircase leading to the uppermost floors. "Don't call me that. Just 'Miss' is fine," she told the maid who had intercepted her. "What do you want?"

"Ah...yes, miss." The girl lowered her voice: "Miss, did you see Master Lowell just now?"

"Yuri?" Startled, Rita took a few steps closer. "Is he in the castle?"

"Yes, miss!" The maid crept even closer, whispering, "I wanted to be sure you knew—he tried to see Sir Schwann, and the Knights turned him away!"

Rita blinked at her. "Really? Why?"

The maid giggled. "You'll never guess—the Knights said Sir Schwann said he wasn't the one Master Lowell should be talking to right now!" Her eyes were alight with conspiratorial glee. "And then they said Sir Schwann was under _your _orders not to be bothered tonight, and they wouldn't let anyone in till he'd had some rest! Is that true, miss?"

"Uh...yeah." Hot damn, Schwann was actually listening to her. But why would Yuri want to...?

Rita's mind flashed to the letter Schwann had handed him outside. That was the only reason she could think of; Yuri would have had time to read and react to it by now. ...And Raven had been writing when she went to sleep earlier today. He'd had the time and opportunity to steal the envelope back out of her bag on the _Fiertia, _too,the sneaky bastard. It fit, even if it didn't really make sense.

Evidently, the letter's contents had been urgent enough to make Yuri run all the way back to the castle and try to see Schwann alone. But what could he possibly—

"Boo," Yuri said behind them, and grinned as they both jumped out of their skins. "Sorry, but I've gotta borrow Rita for a minute," he told the maid. "Give us some space, would you?"

"Yes, sir," the girl said, politely enough. By the speed with which she bowed herself away and took off down the hall, though, Rita was sure the rest of the castle would hear about this in short order.

The mage was expecting some kind of explanation, but Yuri just took the letter from his belt, shook out the pages, and thrust them at her. "Read this. Starting here," he ordered, stabbing a finger halfway down the first page. When she hesitated, he deigned to add, "Schwann wrote it this morning. It's about Estelle."

"What? Lemme see!" Afire with curiosity, Rita snatched the letter and began reading as fast as she could.

Yuri leaned one arm against the wall, resting his forehead on the cold, smooth stone. "I can't believe that guy. He told me to come talk to him about marrying Estelle—"

Rita's head shot up. "He did?"

"Yeah. Then he gave me this thing, and now he won't let me talk to him," Yuri grumbled.

She nodded. "Good. I told him not to see anyone tonight. Now shut up and let me read."

He did, and Rita finished the first page in a matter of seconds. "Damn. He guessed right about the Council wanting her and Ioder to get together, instead of having to actually pick for each of 'em," she said, equally disgusted and impressed. "I just heard about it from Estelle and Judith, too." Rita flipped the page over. "Estelle's really upset about it." Pause. "Really, _really _upset. Y'know?"

No response. She shrugged, decided to leave it there for now, and sped through the rest of the letter without comment.

And she was glad she did. Her heart lightened with each neat-written line, even the parts she didn't get, till she was smiling and nodding along. So much for staying up till she found a solution! Maybe she wouldn't kick Schwann's ass after all...

Upon finishing the letter, Rita made an appreciative noise and shoved the pages back at Yuri. "Sounds like a plan to me," she said cheerfully. "I don't know much about legal loopholes, but it sounds sneaky enough to work. I mean, look who came up with it." She snorted. "He's sure got _you _pegged."

"It can't be that easy," Yuri argued, folding the letter back up. "If I could've done this any time, why didn't he tell me earlier?"

"Why would he? It's not like you've ever said anything to anyone about your feelings for her, ever." Rita jabbed a finger at him, nearly poking his nose. "As far as we know, you don't give a crap who she ends up with, as long as he's not a complete monster."

"Yeah, well, maybe I do," he muttered, leaning against the wall.

"Really! I'm so glad to hear that. In exchange, let me tell you something interesting." Rita swiftly reached up and yanked one of his ears down, yelling into it, "You don't have time to dick around anymore!"

"Owww!" He pulled free and stumbled away, rubbing his ear. "Geez, Rita! Charmingly put. I'll have to remember that." With his other hand, Yuri unfolded the letter yet again, scanning the second page. "I didn't know there was suddenly this big time limit, okay? She could've just told me yesterday instead of letting me think everything was fine."

The mage folded her arms. "She only suspected it till she got confirmation right before the melee. Then she was scared of what you'd say, and I can't really blame her." Belatedly, she remembered her promise not to tell Yuri anything, and tempered her guilt with the thought of Estelle finding out what she had just read.

Besides, Rita's patience with Yuri had long since run dry. If he'd just stop being stubborn, he and Estelle could both be happy; why was that so difficult? She thought she knew, and it made her madder than ever.

"Mm." Yuri put one hand on his hip, glancing down the page. It seemed to be his final answer.

Rita pressed her lips together, plucked the page out of his grasp, and gave him her most penetrating stare. "Why don't you just go ask her?" she demanded. "Right now?"

Yuri started, then assumed an expression of mock thoughtfulness. "Right now? Let's see...should I go propose marriage to the last Imperial Princess, or should I have dinner first?" He scowled at her. "What kind of question is that?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Rita threw her hands into the air. "You know damn well what I mean, Yuri! If all you have to do to approach the Council is put on some fancy clothes, why wouldn't you at least _try_?" His jaw clenched, and she knew she was pushing too hard. Good. "I'll tell you something else that might make you feel better," Rita said bitingly. "I don't think you're good enough for her, either."

Yuri's face went white. If she'd been male, he'd have hit her; as it was, his fist struck the wall with terrific force. "Is that so?" he ground out. "Which is why you've been harassing us both about it? And why you're still bugging me like this?"

"Why'd you come up here tonight, Yuri?" she shot back. "Was it to tell Schwann thanks, but you're not going to do it?"

He started to speak, thought better of it, and gave a grim little shake of the head, pulling his hand back to flex his bruised fingers.

"And why'd you come show me the letter? Did you think I'd try to talk you out of it?" Rita kept up the glare, even when he looked away. "Then I'll tell you what I think, Yuri, and I've done a lot of thinking about it—I don't think anyone is good enough for her, but you're on a whole different level. It's like...you're everything a princess's husband shouldn't be." The mage ticked them off on her fingers: "You're common as dirt, you _kill_ people, and you're so convinced you're a bad guy that you get mad when someone tries to give you any credit! So you act the part, and guess what happens?" She prodded his shoulder. "I think you've got a lot of problems, pretty big ones. And yeah, that's coming from me."

Yuri tilted his head back to look down at her, a mixture of angry disbelief and...hope? "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Thanks," he said sardonically. "Don't even try to tell me there's a 'but' in here somewhere."

"But," she agreed, and poked his other shoulder. "Even if her other suitors weren't all grody old men – and her cousin – I'd say you're the best choice Estelle's got. The way Schwann sets it out, you wouldn't have to do anything but make sure she stayed safe and happy, and I think you'd try harder at that than anyone else would." Rita coughed. "You also...y'know. Heirs." She waved an embarrassed, dismissive hand. "A-anyway, don't you think it'd be worth it?"

"Easy for you to say," Yuri muttered, and shook his head with a wry half smile. "Man, I don't know why I expected any sympathy out of you. Pretty stupid, huh?"

"Yep. I don't feel sorry for you at all." Rita folded her arms, foot tapping. "If you're scared of screwing up, just make sure you don't screw up. And if _you're_ scared of being rejected?" She pointed at him accusingly. "Estelle's worried that you don't even think she's worth it!"

Yuri flinched as though she'd struck him. "Is she?" he said after a moment. "I hope you told her that's a load of crap." She nodded vigorously. He cocked his head at her. "Good. But please tell me you at least tried to be tactful."

"I...told her you loved her." Rita scuffed the carpet with one toe. Where was the stupid fan when she needed it? She glanced up at him. "You have to admit, it's really pretty obvious."

His eyes were as wide as she'd ever seen them. "You." He squinted at her. "_You_ told her that? You? Rita Mordio?" She nodded again, and had the pleasure of seeing his face turn bright red. "Dammit! What'd you do that for?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't, stupid!" She aimed a kick at his shin, but he skipped aside and began jogging down the hall. "Hey!" Rita shouted.

Yuri halted, and came back to retrieve the letter page still clutched in her hand. "Right," he said, and he was off again.

"Hey! Hey, wait!" Rita trotted after him. "Are you at least going to talk to her?"

"Where do you think I'm going?" he asked over his shoulder.

Ha. "The wrong way, that's where!"

"Huh?" Yuri looked around. "Oh. Gotcha." He did an about-face and walked back toward her.

"You guys really owe Schwann, you know," Rita told him in passing.

He stopped again. "Yeah, I guess so," he mused, one hand to his chin. "And you, too. Even if you were a jerk about it." Yuri suddenly smirked at her. "If it wasn't for that, I might have shown you what Schwann wrote about you."

"What?" Rita watched him pull out the first page and point to a series of scribbled lines near the top. "What are you talking about?" she asked suspiciously.

"I dunno if he wanted me to see it, or if he was too tired to start a new sheet, or what." Yuri winked at her. "But everything he scratched out was about you, and I'm not telling you what it said." Her rage seemed to amuse him quite a bit. "Why do you think I started you so far down?" he asked gaily.

"You son of a—give me that!" Rita lunged at the page, which he raised above his head, far out of reach. The mage tried to double him over with a knee in the groin, only to have him sidestep and nudge her away with his elbow. "You're probably lying anyway," she snarled, and turned to stalk back to her room.

"'Course I am, Rita," he said, "which is how I know he wanted to thank you for throwing the pills out."

Rita froze. Her head turned, just enough for him to see her expression.

"What?" Yuri tapped the side of his head with the pages. "Did I hit a nerve? 'Cause I know I'd hate it if someone ever did that to _me_."

"Go to hell," the mage said shortly. "No—go talk to Estelle. And if you make her cry again, I'll kill you."

Yuri rocked back on his heels. "Will do, Rita. Will do." He rolled the letter up and stuck it through his belt loops. "Good luck in your own romantic endeavors, by the way. I wish you as much compassion and sensitivity as you've shown me through these difficult times."

"You're welcome," Rita snapped, and walked away before she said something she couldn't take back.

"Rita," he called after her. But she didn't stop long enough to hear him say, "Thanks," or to see that he meant it.

* * *

Estelle sat in front of her dressing mirror and stared at the dozens of earrings her servants had set out. She was supposed to choose something to go with her dress for the banquet tomorrow, but she didn't feel up to it just now. Even the prospect of attending a grand party with all her friends didn't seem that exciting. In fact, the princess had been sitting in that pose for so long that her backside was going numb; shifting her weight seemed too much effort, never mind getting up.

All her life, Estelle thought, no matter how many romances she'd read, she had never really understood this part of the process. Pining away for someone was just a bit of melancholy for the reader to sigh over before everything came out all right in the end. In most of her favorite stories, this tragic feeling lasted a few pages, maybe a chapter or two, just long enough to create suspense between the falling-in-love and confessing-your-love bits; for her, it had been hours of crying, of sore sides and burning eyes and choking on her own snot, mostly when she was alone at night. Stories liked to dwell on the weeping and solitude, but none of them ever mentioned snot.

It could be worse. She could be the heroine of a hundred-volume epic, one of the ones where lovers were forced to marry other people and pine for each other their whole—

And to think, she used to _love _those when she was little!

A bell rang in the other room, the signal to dress for bed. The princess felt herself swivel – knees politely together – and stand up, removing her clothes by sheer force of habit. Now that she was grown, she was allowed to choose her own nightdress, so she pulled the first thing she saw out of the wardrobe, slipped it over her head, and blew out the lamp.

"Lady Estellise," her maid chided her as she walked into the bedroom. The old woman frowned at Estelle's knee-length hem, scandalously short by royal standards. "This isn't proper for a young lady, even if it is warm out. Wouldn't you like something a bit more...substantial?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she said mechanically.

The maid's frown deepened. "Estellise, dear, what's gotten into you? Are you feeling all right?" She removed a couple of short pins from her pocket, and began coiling Estelle's hair into a bun. "Would you like something to help you sleep?"

Estelle felt her eyes prickling again. She shook her head. "No. Thank you. Right now, I just need—"

There was a bang on the bedroom door, and the sound of muffled voices. The door was stout and securely locked, so that they could barely hear her guards arguing with someone. "Oh, my," her maid said in dismay.

Another bang. The lock rattled. "Hey," they both heard. "Hey, Estelle!"

Estelle stiffened, feeling the color rush back to her cheeks. "Open it," she said.

"What?" The servant looked askance at her. "You can't be serious, dear. It's the middle of the night, and you're certainly not dressed to receive—"

"Open the door!" the princess shouted.

The maid, who had not been shouted at since Estelle was six years old, nearly tripped in her haste to get across the room and throw back the bolts. Estelle paid no attention to her whispered conference with the guards; her feet were rooted to the floor, paralyzed by the simple knowledge that Yuri was here, and he wanted to talk to her.

Had he heard about Ioder? Was that it? It must be...but what could he possibly have to say to her at this hour? Her heart was pounding so hard that she felt faint.

"Lady Estellise. Master Lowell to see you," her maid said, reproachfully formal.

Whatever he wanted to say, there was no point delaying the conversation. Estelle had to wet her lips before she could get the words out: "Let him in, please."

* * *

Yuri had never been inside her room before.

As the maid swung the door open, the first thing that hit him was Estelle's scent. It was weird, but pleasant, something vaguely floral but not too sweet. He'd always liked that smell, right from the beginning, when she was still just a noble girl who'd tried to bash his head in with a vase.

Yuri took another long, deep breath, and stepped into the room. He was fine. He could do this. If he could just get his hands to stop shaking...

"Don't try anything stupid," one of the guards warned him. The maid gave the man a resolute nod – as if to say it was all right, _she_ was there – and pulled the door shut.

Once inside, Yuri found he had no clue what to do. Remembering his manners, he nodded to the scowling servant, then raised a hand at Estelle, who was standing by the bed and...not wearing much. "Uh. Hey, Estelle." He coughed. "Sorry to barge in so late at night," he said, and tried to smile at the princess without looking directly at her. "I've been doing a lot of...I just wanted to show you something real quick. It's important."

Estelle didn't answer. In a fit of cowardice, Yuri took his time propping his sword up against the doorframe, glancing around the room in which she'd grown up. Unlike most nobles' suites, it looked about the size of his guest quarters, with only a couple of smaller chambers for bathing and dressing. The blastia fixtures hadn't been converted to electricity yet, so the room's sole light sources were a couple of bedside candles, and one by the door. "Nice place," he mumbled.

"What do you want, Yuri?" Her voice, loud and sharp, startled both Yuri and the maid, who took a prudent step back. "You really should be asleep right now."

"I know, but something came up," Yuri said, tugging the pages from his belt. "Remember how Schwann gave me a letter earlier? It's got...actually, it's too much to explain at once." He picked his way across the dark room, banging his knee on a low table. "Here, read these." Yuri stopped just outside the circle of light and held the letter out at arm's length.

Estelle frowned at the pages, but didn't take them. "If it's about Ioder, I already know," she said, folding her arms under her breasts. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I wasn't sure about it yet."

It didn't take a genius to see she had been crying, or that she was still upset. Strands of hair were falling out of her loose bun; Yuri couldn't believe how much effort it suddenly took not to lean over and tuck those behind her ear, or try to put it back up for her, or do something else that'd let him touch her. He stuffed his free hand into his pockets, and shrugged. "Yeah, I kinda wish you'd said something. But it's not like I could've done anything about it. So..."

"What do you want?" she burst out. Her hands came up to her mouth, as if to stuff the words back in. But she shook her head a little, and Yuri was horrified to see her shoulders heave. "I'm sorry. If you have something to say, please just say it."

Yuri's tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth. How had he convinced himself that she couldn't be feeling as bad as Rita said she was? Because it was easier than actually seeing her like this?

Well, now he _was_ seeing her like this, and he couldn't stand it. He should apologize, and leave the damn letter on the table for her, and let her decide what to do in the—

No_. _No, he shouldn't. He should stay here and...goddammit, he was still scared to even think it!

Yuri flexed his sore hand again, wishing it hurt a lot more. "Look, Estelle. It's..."

"It's what, Yuri?" Her hands curled into fists. "Either tell me something I don't know already, or go away!" A sob escaped her, and Estelle suddenly ducked her head. "Please go away, Yuri! I...I can't—"

"If I accept the title Ioder gave me last year, they can't keep me out of the Council room, and I can ask to marry you," Yuri blurted out.

Never, for the rest of his life, would he forget how fast her head whipped around, eyes wide, more hair escaping the bun as she stared up at him. "It's in the letter," he said lamely, and shut his eyes, trying to remember without the distraction of seeing her. "What was it...?" The candles sputtered in silence. "True Knight. The Emperor can give it to anyone he deems worthy, like Ioder did, because it's military, not under the Council's purview. Schwann says the title's socially equivalent to a Captain, you just don't get your own brigade or anything." Pause for breath. "Captains have always been allowed to address the Council, regardless of their birth, so I can get in and request a morganatic marriage, where you'd keep all the power and I'd just...be there. If...if you want." He exhaled, feeling a tremendous weight slip off his shoulders—and another hovering, ready to take its place, and then some.

Estelle took two steps toward him. "Yuri." A hand touched his arm, and his eyes opened. It was a mistake: the princess was just as lovely and vulnerable as a moment before, only now she was right there. "You...you wouldn't mind?"

The pages fell, unnoticed, from his hand. Estelle's lips parted as his hands dropped to her waist, resting very lightly for a moment, in case she wanted to push away—and then tugged her against him and pressed her face into his chest, arms warm and strong around her shoulders.

"Yuri!" She clutched at his front, leaning harder against him as her head swam and her eyes stung anew. There were a thousand things to say, but it would all have to wait till she was through crying.

"I'm sorry," he said into her hair, running a hand down her back as tears soaked his shirt. If he'd had any idea she was this soft, Yuri reflected, his self-control wouldn't have lasted half this long. Not that her attire helped... "I didn't mean to—I know I'd be the worst consort in history, but...here we are." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Man. I can't believe how selfish I am."

"You have no idea," said the maid, and they looked up guiltily as she walked into the light, face like a wrinkled stormcloud. Silent seconds ticked by; despite the old woman's expectant scowl, Yuri did not release Estelle, who was not trying to get loose. The maid gestured curtly at them. "It's past time you went to sleep, Your Highness. And as for you, young man—"

"Yeah, yeah. I spent all that time finding the laundry, so it'll take me a while to get my uniform in the morning," Yuri said loudly, giving Estelle another gentle squeeze. He let go and stepped back to pick up the letter. "Thanks for sticking that outfit in my bag, by the way," he told the princess. "It might just come in handy." He held out the pages again. "When your eyes are feeling better, look that over. It's full of crap no one in their right mind would ever think of." As she tried to take the letter, Yuri took her other hand. "Make sure to thank Sir Schwann at the banquet tomorrow, and your friend, what's her name, the mage? She's pretty rude, but she brought up some good points just now."

"Rita?" With so much emotion – and more – still coursing through her, Estelle was too dismayed to smile at his teasing. "What—good points? She promised not to say anything!"

"Hey, if she hadn't, I wouldn't have come up here to intrude on Your Majesty's sleep." Yuri caught the maid's expression and sighed. "Anyway, Estelle. I'll talk to Ioder tomorrow. Till then, good ni—"

"You really will?" Estelle asked anxiously.

"I really will." Even with the maid watching, Yuri pulled her close enough to whisper, "Rita was right, you know."

Estelle looked confused for a moment. He knew the exact moment she figured it out, because it made her blush to the roots of her hair. "I am going to _kill _her!" she wailed.

"I know. I mean, no one should have to hear that from Rita first." At the old lady's approach, Yuri held up his hands and backpedaled right into the table. "Ow! All right, all right, I'm going. Good night." He turned to Estelle. "And good night to you, Estellise," he said softly, and made himself leave the room before he messed things up any further.

The maid bustled around, muttering about impudent young men and ridiculous schemes as Estelle smoothed the papers out. "Did that really just happen?" the princess asked, dazed.

"Did you just promise to wed a commoner and let him put his hands on you, in nothing more than a slip? You certainly did." The servant shook out a pillowcase with unnecessary force, folding it over and over and over.

"And you were right there to stop it beforehand," Estelle noted.

"Yes, I was." Her maid paused in her work long enough to smile at the young princess. "And you seem to be feeling better, so we'll overlook it this once." She shook out another pillowcase with a brisk snap. "Just once, you understand."

"Of course," Estelle said, reaching for a handkerchief. Once her eyes cleared, then she could settle down to read and see if there was any chance of Schwann's idea working. Once her eyes cleared, and her skin cooled, and she couldn't feel Yuri's hands on her back. Then...

* * *

A/N: "True Knight" was the title you got for Yuri by completing all 23 damn Secret Missions in one damn playthrough; for those of you less patient and/or anal than that (SCREW YOU, YEAGER. SCREW YOUR MOM, TOO), that scene did indeed consist of Ioder trying to give him a sooper-speshul rank, and Yuri refusing...and Estelle putting the outfit in his bag anyway. :D More to follow once I've gotten some sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**XIII.**

Next morning, Schwann came out of the bathroom and found Rita on his bed.

The Captain paused in the act of drying his hair, long enough to ascertain that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him; all he could see from this angle was one red boot poking through the bedcurtains. As quietly as possible, he walked across the floor and up the low steps, easing the curtains open.

She was sleeping on the foot of the bed, wrapped in a quilt she'd pulled loose from the other covers. Her hair was wet, as if she'd also just had a bath, but she was fully dressed, in her usual clothes.

So...what the hell was she doing in here?

At a total loss, Schwann draped the towel across his shoulders. "Rita," he said softly. "Wake up."

The mage didn't even stir. He reached down to tug on the quilt, hoping to wake her without—

"I'm sorry, Sir Schwann!"

If the Knight had spoken any louder, Schwann's heart might have given out. The Captain dropped his hand and turned to face the bedroom door, pulling the towel down his shoulder; his bathrobe alone was far too thin to hide the blastia. "What's going on here?" he snapped.

"We told her you didn't want to be disturbed, sir!" Schwann needn't have worried: the Knight was standing rigidly to attention by the door, eyes fixed on the far wall. "She wouldn't stay out. I tried to stop her, and she threw _fire_ at me, sir!"

"Hm." Schwann grimaced, the better to keep from laughing—everyone knew he had no sense of humor. He thought about it for a good ten seconds, letting the man fidget. "Be that as it may," he said, "she should not be here."

Somehow, the Knight stood up straighter. "Yes, sir! Forgive me, sir!"

"Given the authority with which she invests herself, and that which I allowed her last night..." The Captain sighed, and gave a curt nod. "Return to your post. Send down to the kitchens, and ask for Bethany. Do not let anyone else in, or tell anyone Miss Mordio is here." His voice hardened. "If I hear any unsavory rumors stemming from her presence in this room, I will hold both of you responsible."

"Sir! Yes, Sir Schwann!" The Knight saluted and hurried out of the room.

_Slam _went the door behind him. Schwann glanced at Rita, but she was still sound asleep.

Great. Before he even got dressed, he was going to have to wake her up, demand an explanation, and shoo her out, preferably without getting his face burned off. Dealing with Rita was no way to start anyone's day.

When he turned back to the bed, though, Schwann found he couldn't really be angry with her. She looked too tired, for one thing; there was no way she had gotten up at this hour on her own.

Judging by her hair, he guessed she'd been woken up early to start getting ready for the banquet, much earlier than she had for the ball. The maids might be scared of her – and rightfully so – but it was still their job to make sure she looked presentable at the high table this afternoon. They'd probably shown up in force and hustled her out of bed before she knew what was happening; not even Rita could hold off a dozen servants at once.

Well. She probably could, just not without destroying half the castle. No wonder she'd come up here to bully some Knights instead. But did she have to do it while he was in the bath?

Even worse, Rita was using his favorite blanket, something he couldn't replace if she set the bed on fire. He might be able to wake her at a distance by tossing water from the bathroom door, but...no, he wasn't going to risk it.

Too bad he couldn't let her be; she really did look comfortable. If they'd been at her house in Capua Torim, ol' Raven might have hopped on the other end of the bed and gone back to sleep, too.

The sudden audacity of the thought made him smile. He could just see her reaction, and hear himself arguing that he was a sick, weak old man—what was wrong with a little slumber party between friends? It wasn't like he was interested in a kid young enough to be his daughter...

Schwann looked at her a moment longer, smile fading. "Off you go," he said aloud, and walked to the end of the bed near the cedar chest.

His plan was simple, but effective: taking care not to touch her, he tugged the edges of the quilt around till he was holding the ends up in each hand, suspending the girl in a makeshift sling. He inhaled, braced his feet, and swung Rita clear off the bed.

She was very light, of course, or else he would've dropped her from sheer weakness. The Captain staggered down the steps and managed to deposit her safely in the big armchair before he had to sink to the floor, head between his knees. Mission accomplished, he congratulated himself wearily. If she yelled at him for exerting himself, he was going to—

Rita stirred. She blinked, focusing on him, and mumbled something he couldn't catch.

Schwann sighed. "Rita."

"Mmmm." The mage flipped one corner of the quilt over her head. "Fuggoff."

He had already gotten enough breath back to chuckle. "I respectfully decline." Schwann picked up his towel and whapped her on the shoulder. "Seriously, Rita, wake up. Now."

"All right, all right, I'm awake." The blanket fell around her waist as she sat up. "What time is it?" she asked, smothering a yawn.

Schwann checked the bronze clock over the fireplace. "Almost nine."

"Mmm." Another yawn escaped her. "How're you feeling?"

He was getting sick of that question. "I'm fine, Rita." The Captain watched the mage rub her eyes with the back of her hand. It was not quite cute enough to excuse the fact that he was sitting on cold, hard marble in nothing but a robe. "What about you? Is this some kind of emergency?" he inquired.

Rita blinked again. "No, I just wanted to check on you." She dropped her gaze and picked at a loose thread on the quilt. "Geez. They didn't tell me you were taking a bath."

Now he could be angry with her. "So you invaded my privacy for no reason, then? Perfect." Rita sputtered, but Schwann ignored her, pushed to his feet, and leaned against the other chair, checking that his robe was secure on all fronts. He caught her peeking up at him and snorted. "You'll have to excuse me for not being dressed."

The mage raked a handful of wet hair off her neck. "I didn't think you were actually in here. I figured you snuck out somewhere and they were covering for you," she said, subdued.

"I was splashing around in the tub for over half an hour," Schwann pointed out. "Either you're deaf, or you're lying." It was stupid to provoke her, but he was unnerved, and more than a little perturbed by her lack of reaction. He didn't _want_ to be screamed at or blown up, as such, but at least it would make sense.

"I'm not deaf, and I'm not lying! You know I fall asleep really fast." Far from rising to smite him, Rita hunkered down into the blanket. "I didn't mean to—"

"What you meant isn't important, Rita, only what you did." Schwann gestured impatiently at her. "Fold that thing up and put it back in the cedar chest. Whatever else you do, stay off my bed."

To his surprise, she didn't reply. Her brows furrowed; as he watched, Rita stood, picked up the quilt, shook it out to find the corners, and began folding it into neat quarters.

Schwann thought she was working up to an outburst, the only possible conclusion to her staying this composed for this long. But when she had folded the last quarter against her chest, she stood there for a second, then said to the floor, "I'm sorry."

He was so taken aback that his mouth actually fell open. No anger at all? Genuine remorse? This _was _Rita he was talking to, wasn't it?

The mage clutched the blanket tighter. "When I came up here, I wasn't really thinking straight. I figured I'd come see you for a minute, and...I fell asleep. I didn't mean to cause you any trouble." She kicked at the chair's worn leg. "Sorry. I'm going now." And she set the blanket down in a few quick steps, turning for the door.

"No," Schwann said firmly, stopping her in her tracks. "Not yet. Someone might see you."

Rita looked up at him, and the arm he'd held out to block her. "Someone might see me what? It's not like I spent the night in here." There was no sarcasm in it, only puzzlement.

Oh, boy. Time for an explanation. Schwann cleared his throat, looked her in the eye, and...wussed out. "Never mind," he said, trying to sound casual. "As long as you're here, we might as well talk about a few things first."

"Things?" For some reason, that seemed to alarm her. She took a step back and eyed the door, as if weighing her options.

What was wrong now? Schwann heaved another sigh. "All right, Rita. Do whatever you want. I'm not well enough to stop you." He lowered his arm, and also took a step back. "Just remember," he added, "the maids can't get you if they don't know where you are." With that, the Captain started toward his dressing room.

Rita opened her mouth, clicked it shut, and shuffled her feet violently on the rug. "They'll probably come find me in here anyway," she muttered. "Sorry."

Another apology? Against his better judgment, Schwann paused. "Hey." When she didn't answer, he turned and made his wobbly way back across the room, leaning against the chair to peer down into her face. "Are you sure you're all right? You're acting pretty—"

Her foot hit the chair so hard that he almost fell over. "I only got two hours of sleep and I'm trying not to take it out on you and I _can't_!" Rita threw her arms up. "I'm tired as hell and I can't deal with it, but it's not your fault, and I don't want to bother you any more than I already have!" Her hands balled into fists. "But I can't not do that now, and I'm sorry! Okay?"

"Uh. Okay." Double negatives notwithstanding, at least they were back on familiar ground. Schwann counted to five before he straightened up. "I wish you hadn't invited yourself in like that," he admitted. "But it's not like you've ruined my day or anything."

"Mm." Rita shoved her hair behind her ears with both palms, tugging the rest back down her neck; it was interesting how much darker it looked when wet. It was so interesting that he almost didn't hear her ask, "Did you pick me up off the bed?"

"Ah—no. The blanket did most of the work." Before she could figure that one out, he smiled ruefully, and continued, "I'm more worried about you than myself. Yesterday was a pretty long day, and tonight won't be much better. Why didn't you get to bed earlier?"

Rita rubbed at the circles under her eyes. "I had to run around for a little while, then Judith and I stayed up late talking. We had to clear all the stupid presents off my bed, too." She perched on the chair's arm, knocking her heels together.

"Presents, eh? I bet...one sec," he said quietly as something caught his eye. Schwann draped the towel back over his shoulder, then called, "Yes?"

The door eased open. "Bethany to see you, sir," said one of the guards.

"Send her in." He took a couple of unobtrusive steps away from the chair as an elderly servant walked into the room. "Good morning," he greeted her.

"Good morning, Sir Schwann, Miss Mordio." The old lady bobbed a curtsy in their direction, showing no curiosity at the girl's presence, or the Captain's lack of dress. "What can I get for you?"

"The usual, please." Schwann looked down at Rita. "Would you care for some breakfast?"

"Sure." The mage scooted off the chair, stood awkwardly for a moment, and seated herself sideways. "I'll have two scrambled eggs, and milk, and some of those little pork sausages, if you've got any." Schwann made a very slight cough, and she added, "Please."

"Of course, dear." Another bob. "If I may, miss," Bethany said politely, "I heard you went missing in the bathhouse, after they left you alone to wash your hair?" Schwann had to turn and fake another cough as Rita scowled. "They're still looking for you downstairs," the servant continued. "May I let them know you'll be down once you've finished consulting with Sir Schwann?"

"Yes, please," Rita said, more desperate than polite. She sat up, clutching the chair's arm. "I promise I'll start getting ready soon. Is there any way I can eat first, without them all coming up after me?"

Bethany smiled. "I think we can manage that. I'll be right back." She bowed herself out with surprising speed, shutting the door before they could thank her.

"And that's why you don't treat servants like crap. They come in handy," Schwann noted. He patted his hair, which was more or less dry. "Speaking of which, I'll be back in a second. Don't go anywhere."

Rita nodded and settled down with some semblance of calm. The Captain turned and set off across the room as fast as he could, lest she find some other way to delay him.

Sure enough, as he opened the door to his dressing room, Rita asked, "You're sure my being here isn't a problem?"

Sigh. "It could've been. Nothing stays a secret for long in this place." Schwann eased himself through the door. "You have to know who to tell what, and when, so things like this get passed around as 'Oh, he asked her to visit this morning, they talked over breakfast' and not 'Shame on him, that poor girl,' et cetera." He pulled the door mostly shut. "More on that in a second, because I'm still in a bathrobe," he said through the crack.

"Right. You should get dressed." He couldn't see her expression as the door closed, which was probably for the best.

Schwann knew he wasn't thinking quite straight, but he could still tell she was barely holding it together. He was well aware of the compliment she was paying him by holding her temper, but this wasn't much fun, either.

No use worrying about it, he consoled himself, kicking his discarded towel and robe into a corner. She couldn't hide anything for long; whatever else she was feeling would come out soon enough.

When it did, it probably wouldn't be as amusing as last night, when she thought she was being subtle in front of everyone else—he'd had to literally bite his tongue to keep himself in character. That was probably just as well, because his mouth still hurt. Now, to stop thinking and get dressed...

The closed, unlit dressing room would've been quite dark, if not for his stupid blastia. The exposed light was still painfully intense; he had to shield it with one hand before he could look downward without being blinded.

Then, of course, he couldn't get dressed, because he had one hand stuck to his chest. Schwann compromised, keeping his eyes shut long enough to feel around for his underclothes and pull them on.

Next, he groped for the light, found an empty blastia socket, and cursed under his breath. The Council was dragging its feet on having electricity installed: most of Dahngrest's buildings had already been converted, including Brave Vesperia's rooms in Union headquarters, but that was too sensible and inelegant a solution for nobles. Till they came around, he'd keep reaching for lights that would never come on again.

Not that he really needed to see in here. There were a few different outfits to choose from, but most hadn't been touched in years, because the only clothing he ever needed was his Captain's uniform. Schwann glanced down at his chest, wondering what Rita would say about it if she were in here right now.

Rita, in here, with a hand on his blastia—

That was when Schwann stopped trying to care about shelves, or shirts, or lights, because his mind veered from Rita's hand on his chest last night to Rita's fingers sweeping strands of hair behind her ears, trailing down her neck, and he forgot other things existed for a couple of minutes.

Dammit. Why'd she have to fall asleep on his bed? More importantly, why'd she have to start climbing on him and apologizing and having a really nice neck, just when everything was going okay?

That was also when he had to acknowledge that the feelings he'd tried to write off as a weird little crush on her were not getting any better, and that he was being unfair, not to mention creepy. It wasn't her fault he hadn't been laid in—what, twelve years?

But the fact remained that, had Rita been in here right now, they wouldn't have talked about light fixtures, or the waste of a whole room on a few dusty things: he'd have skipped right to invading her personal space and getting his everything blown off in retaliation.

Good thing she wasn't in here, then. Schwann grabbed his orange tunic and pants, yanking them on so forcefully that he nearly fell over. The fact that he was breathing like he'd just run a marathon probably didn't help.

He'd wait to put on the rest of it, the greaves and gauntlets and shoulder pads and red shoulderpiece and overtunic and overcoat and blah blah _no_; those could go on when he was feeling steadier.

To his disbelief, as he buckled his belt, Schwann could still see the blastia showing as thin edges through his front. Was the brightness connected to his heart rate? Maybe Rita could look at it for him, now that he was wearing more than a stupid robe. She'd seen him in less clothing than that, of course, but it wasn't the same thing, any more than when he'd seen her in less than—

This wouldn't do at all. Schwann leaned against the wall and slipped back into his old trick of looking at the problem objectively, as if someone else was asking his advice, and reduced his dilemma thus: he was attracted to Rita, and he'd have to spend copious amounts of time very near her for the foreseeable future without her finding out about it. That meant no more staring, andno more lurid fantasies about chewing on her neck; putting aside her age, it was _not _okay to lust after such an oblivious target, however safe it felt, and "I can't help it" had never been an excuse for creepiness, ever, so there.

Okay, then. That didn't help much, except to make him feel like a bigger jerk.

Too bad he couldn't tell her any of this stuff. She'd straighten him out faster than he ever could—probably too straight, but maybe that would be for the—

For the best.

Hm.

The idea was so stupid that Schwann had to backtrack for a better look at it. If he was careful...

Even if he wasn't, what did he have to lose at this point?

In any case, it was time to come out, before she came in after him for taking too long. Schwann snorted at his own stupidity, made up his mind anyway, and turned the doorknob.

* * *

Rita didn't notice how long he was taking; she was absorbed in a chessboard by the window when the dressing-room door slammed open and scared the hell out of her. "There we go," said Schwann, gesturing at his incomplete Captain's uniform. "What do you think?"

Heart racing, limbs trembling, Rita had to quash her reflex to scream at him and set the rug on fire. Oh, _how_ she wanted to set the rug on fire!

But she didn't, because keeping her temper right now was too important. "I think your Raven's showing," she said tartly, and walked back to the armchair.

"Oh?" Schwann's arms dropped, but his voice remained at that curious in-between pitch. "How so?"

"Well...you sound a lot like you did at the dance." Rita sat down and draped her legs over the side of the chair so she wouldn't get caught staring again. He was more fully dressed now, but seeing him in only part of his uniform was as weird as the bathrobe. She'd let that explain why she couldn't quit glancing at him.

"Really?" The half-Captain came over and seated himself across from her. "Is that a good thing?"

Rita wanted to tell him that it didn't matter, he always sounded stupid. "Yeah, actually," she said instead. "Raven's a moron, and Schwann's got three or four sticks up his ass. Right now, like this, you actually sound like a normal human being." She scratched her neck thoughtfully. "Do you have three sets of handwriting, too?" she wondered aloud, and caught herself too late.

Schwann frowned. "Handwriting?"

"Yeah." She tucked her sweaty hands under her legs. "I remember the time you left that scribbly note on my door to come meet everyone for dinner. When I saw the letter you gave Yuri last night, it...your writing was different."

"You saw the letter, huh?" A long, motionless moment passed. "How'd you like my penmanship?" Schwann got to his feet. Rita didn't watch, but she heard him helping himself to a drink at the sideboard. "My dad made me learn. It was supposed to help hide my common ancestry amongst my betters."

Rita didn't care about that. "I read the whole thing. Yuri was hoping I'd talk him out of it," she said pointedly.

"Did you? Read it all, that is—I'm guessing you didn't talk him out of it." Schwann poured himself most of a glass. "I'd offer you something to drink, but all I have is—"

"I don't care about that!" The mage slammed both feet on the floor, forcing him to turn and look at her. "I think I got through to him. The maids told me he insisted on seeing Estelle in her room, and he stayed up there a while!"

She was so intent that he couldn't help messing with her. "So...?" he drawled.

"So your plan's working, stupid!" Rita stomped her feet again for emphasis.

"Huh," the Captain said, almost to himself. "Wish I could've been a fly on the wall for that." Schwann nodded a little. "Good. Good for him. It's about time."

"What do you mean, 'it's about time'?" The mage got up and stalked over to the sideboard, stopping at arm's length. "How can you be so calm? He's actually going to marry Estelle!"

"If everything goes according to plan. There's a pretty good chance it will," Schwann replied, absently swirling the wine around. He gave her a sharp appraisal. "You don't seem that happy about it."

Rita ran her fingers over her scalp. "Of course I'm happy, you dope. I just can't believe he's finally going through with it."

"Is that why you came to see me?" He held up a lock of his hair, gesturing to indicate hers. "Or did you just want a hideout from the servants?"

This was as good a time as any to say it. "No, it's not that. I wanted to tell you something. Um." She swallowed hard. "It's..."

Schwann took a long sip. "It's what, Rita?" he asked, knowing she'd mistake his sudden harshness for anger. As her flush darkened, he added, "I can't imagine _you_ being afraid to say anything."

Rita went rigid. In a surge of humiliated determination, she ducked her head, clenched both hands at her sides, and cried, "Thank you!"

He nearly dropped the glass. "Thank...?" he repeated blankly.

"I wanted to come up and thank you for writing the stupid letter, and for being Schwann again in the first place!" She slammed a fist on the sideboard to steady herself, and locked her knees against the tremor running up her calves. "I don't know how to say this stuff," she said between her teeth. "But I have to. I hurt Estelle's feelings again last night, and now I'm standing here whining at you because I don't know what else to say!" Try as she might, the mage couldn't keep the tremor out of her voice. "It's bad enough I couldn't fix your—"

"Okay." The word shut her up midsentence. She felt him shift closer, and flinched at a light touch on her shoulder. "I get it now. Go sit down."

She did so, gripping her knees as hard as she could in self-reproach. Schwann sat down a moment later, glass in hand. "First things first. You're not weak, or stupid," he said evenly. "You're exhausted, working hard enough for five people, and equipped with the coping skills of a three-year-old. It's not your fault you're feeling a little overwhelmed." He raised the glass for another sip. "Look at it this way. When I first met you, you wouldn't even have noticed how your behavior was affecting other people, much less cared. Now it's actively distressing you."

"I'm supposed to be happy about being distressed?" Rita muttered.

The Captain sighed. "No, you should be happy you're finally mature enough to express yourself without resorting to violence."

"It feels horrible," she complained.

"Welcome to human interaction, Rita. You'll get better, but only if you practice." He shifted, resting his right ankle on his left knee. "So, besides having to talk to me about it without hitting, you're unhappy that you upset Estelle, and that you couldn't help more? Is that right?"

"I did get Yuri to go see her. That helped," she said defensively. Memory intruded, and she winced. "After I promised her not to tell him about it."

Schwann chuckled and set his glass on the table. "That part's definitely your fault."

"It was worth it!" Rita pushed herself to the edge of the seat and settled into a good glare at him. "And for the record, it's a lot easier to talk about how I feel when I know you're not going to rub it in my face, which is approximately _never_."

"Point taken." He shrugged. "In my defense, though, you're not very good at accepting sympathy, or gratitude, or anything nice I try to say to you. If you're going to hit me, I might as well earn it."

"Yeah, well..." Rita shifted sideways again, but she could hardly deny it. "I don't know how else to deal with that crap. It was bad enough coming up here knowing I had to stay calm, much less thank you. And I still couldn't do it right." She nibbled her thumbnail, daring him to make fun of her again.

"Believe it or not, I do appreciate the thought," he murmured, and she felt a bit better. "Coming from you, that's no small feat." Schwann picked the glass back up. "I understand being worried about how you treated Estelle, but—"

"But what?" she asked, nettled.

Schwann thumped the wineglass right back down and leaned forward. "Don't try to convince me you should've already fixed my heart," he answered crossly. "You've saved my life twice or thrice now without wanting anything in return. I don't..." It was his turn to trail off as she waited, intensely curious. "I just don't want you to feel like anything that happens to me is your fault. It's not fair that I've turned into your sole responsibility." He blew his cheeks out. "If it was up to me, I would never have bothered you with it in the first place."

"Oh, get over yourself," she snapped. "You really think I'd rather let you die than at least try to help?" The urge to kick him was overpowering. "When you go on about thanking me for saving your life, it feels like...like...I don't know." She kicked the chair by his leg, but he didn't move. "It feels like...if we'd tried to thank you for saving us at Baction, you wouldn't have let us, would you?"

The glass stopped halfway to his lips, and stayed there for several seconds. Rita barely heard his soft, wary answer: "No."

"Of course not. You'd helped screw us all over, so that was the least you could do. But you _did _do it." She clenched her hands in her lap. "It's a little bit like that. I've never..." She faltered in embarrassment. "You know. You guys are more...ugh!" Words were no good. Rita stomped the floor yet again as her temper flared. "Why the hell wouldn't I help you, anyway? You think I've got so many friends that I can afford to let any of 'em die?" She punctuated the words with a faint, sideways puff of flame. "I'd do anything for any of you. I don't want to hear about it like I'm doing something special, so shut the hell up already!"

"I see," Schwann said as Rita caught her breath, glaring for all she was worth—quite a bit. He drained the glass and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Thank you for being honest, weird as it is to hear it." He rubbed the back of his neck, half smiling at a vague recollection; he'd been wondering about it in the bath, but now he was certain. "I think I see what you mean. I just hope you'll forgive my addition to your hoard."

Rita's anger faded a little in perplexity. "Hoard?"

"All the 'stupid presents you had to clear off the bed,'" he reminded her. "The silk rose, with the perfumey water? That was from me." And he smiled winningly.

Heat washed over her like she'd stuck her head in an oven; Rita would later surmise that she had turned solid red, right down to her shoulders. At the time, all she could think was that which came out of her mouth: "Y-y-you _creepy old bastard_!"

Schwann raised his hands in self-defense. "What's your problem?" he protested. "Pink means gratitude, not sex!"

"It was red, and that means you're _gross_!" Mindful that violence was still off limits, Rita pummeled the defenseless chair arm. "When did you even get it, you moron?"

"I had someone order it for me right after the joust, before we left!" He lowered his hands, but only a bit: she was literally vibrating with fury. "I wrote it down... It was supposed to be pink! I barely even remember doing it—there was cough medicine involved!"

Rita was trying to straighten her thoughts out when they both became aware that someone was knocking on the door, a polite crescendo of rap-rap-raps that sounded ready to go on all day if need be. "Come in," Schwann said in his Schwann voice, and Bethany glided into the room with a platter balanced on each hand.

Twenty seconds later, the mage had collected herself again, aided by a huge forkful of delicately steaming, cheese-sprinkled eggs. "That was something else I was going to ask you," she said, once she'd chewed and swallowed. "You sure it wasn't supposed to be red?"

"Of course not," Schwann said, digging into a boiled egg. "I'd never just up and give you something like that. It was supposed to be friendly, not sexy."

"Hm. Well, it's pretty." It was safe to keep it, then. Excellent. "So why didn't you want me leaving earlier?"

The Captain raised his eyebrows at her. "Because I'd rather people not see you running out of my room, visibly upset, and draw their own conclusions. Nighttime's not the only time you need to be careful about that."

"Oh." That made sense. She felt so sheepish that she abandoned fairness and asked her biggest question head-on, cutting off what he'd been about to say: "Judith said you were checking me out on the _Fiertia_. Is that true?"

Schwann almost choked on a bite of pastry. "One second," he croaked, and she waited for him to finish coughing. "Funny you should ask," he remarked, once he'd washed it down with coffee. "That was something I was going to bring up, with the presents and all." He chose that moment to refill his cup instead of talking.

Her curiosity was aroused to near-painful levels. "What about them?" she demanded. "Are you going to answer me, or not?"

He grinned, confirming that he'd kept her waiting on purpose. "I'll get to that, but first, let me guess about your presents—you got a lot of flowers, all very nice, but...okay, one red rose, and that was an accident; the rest were more platonic. Plenty of cards, but not as many as Judith, who probably has enough red roses to open her own shop. Yes?"

How the...? "Yeah. How the hell did you know?"

"For starters, you're way too young for anyone to be making any serious moves on you, even those gross old farts who think twenty-five-year-olds are over the hill. Sixteen's about when a girl up here is supposed to start looking around, but that's it. Nobody marries that early unless they really need money." Schwann dropped a pinch of sugar in his cup. "Judith, on the other hand, is a grown woman, and she's hot. The roses are a serious token of romantic interest, and the cards mean he wants to meet you right away. It stands to reason she's got a lot of 'em."

Rita's hackles rose. "Wants to meet for...?"

"Any kind of one-on-one meeting. It can turn into anything from a business talk – maybe the guy wants to brag to his friends that Rita Mordio designed his mansion's new heating system – to him trying to get in your pants."

It was her turn to choke. "Yeah," he said agreeably, pushing her cup toward her on the little table. "You can expect a lot more of the former. Poor Judith is going to have to deal with a lot more of the latter."

Rita gulped down the rest of her milk and speared two sausages on her fork. "Yeah, yeah, she's hot and I'm young. I get it."

"That's true," Schwann said, "but you're not understanding me. Judith's a guild member, however famous, while you're more famous, supposedly wealthy, and a lovely dancer. There'll be a lot more long-term prestige in cultivating your acquaintance than hers."

Okay, that did it. "You know what? Just come out and say whatever you mean. I'm not going to hit you unless you really try to make me uncomfortable," she warned him. He hadn't answered her question yet, either.

"Oh, good." Schwann set down his utensils and leaned back. "In that case, yes, I was staring at you on the _Fiertia_, for which I apologize. You have to realize, the older you get, the more men are going to check you out—it doesn't necessarily mean they have any intentions, good or bad. Sometimes we just don't realize we're staring."

Rita processed this information more calmly than either of them expected; it didn't feel real enough to take it personally. "I thought you said I was too young for that," she objected, and took a bite of egg.

"You're too young for a serious relationship, much less marriage," Schwann agreed. "Flirting's another thing, though, and even if you don't want to do it, you should know..." His face contorted in sudden self-sacrifice. "I need to let you in on a secret. Every girl should know this—" He beckoned her closer and lowered his voice past a whisper, barely audible. "It doesn't matter how big you are. Anywhere."

"What?" The mage couldn't have heard that right.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Having huge or small boobs isn't what makes you attractive. It's your overall shape." He made a briefly illustrative gesture. "In your case, now that you're actually eating on a regular basis, you're filling out. You look less like a scrawny teenager and more like a miniature woman, and a lot of guys tend to like small women anyway."

"Huh." His tone was too friendly and impersonal to derive any insult, and Rita found she was more interested than embarrassed. "So, what you said at the dance—"

"I was telling the truth, not trying to distract you from anything." Schwann stretched his legs out in front of him and to the side. "Keep in mind we're all indiscriminate pigs to begin with. Throw in any nice features, and you're going to get stared at." He snorted. "Hell, throw in any female features, and it doesn't matter if you've got no teeth and fur all over your body. Some guy will be willing to overlook it." An elaborate shrug. "Don't worry about me, though. I'd never—"

"Nah, I'm not worried about you trying something weird," she said cheerfully. At his inquiring look, she explained, "I know you know I'd kill you. Besides, all you ever do with women is talk and stare. I don't think you'd even know what to do with one."

"Excuse me?" Schwann's voice nearly went straight up to Raven's register. "Here I am apologizing and giving you useful information, and you turn around and insult me with it?"

He was right, but she couldn't help herself. "It's true," she remarked. "Like that poor, delusional girl in Dahngrest. She really had a thing for you, and you couldn't get her away fast enough."

"Key word 'delusional,' in that no one has any idea I'm lacking basic human parts. Believe it or not, this thing puts a serious crimp in your love life." Schwann knocked on his chest with the coffee cup.

"So?" Rita crossed her arms. "You said men will overlook just about anything. From what I've seen, women will settle pretty hard, too. The only weird thing you've got is your blastia."

"A glowing rock where my heart should be is not a 'weird thing,' Rita, it's an abomination. I wouldn't inflict the sight of it on anyone." He raised his hands in a shrug. "Except you and the other guys, of course, but you're used to it."

Rita snorted. "Yeah, and you know how much I've always hated looking at blastia."

They sat in silence for a minute, picking at the remnants of their breakfasts, while each thought very small and private thoughts about how much she didn't hate looking at blastia.

I wonder how he'd look without it, Rita thought, and indulged herself in minutely imagined comparisons, because why not? It was an interesting academic exercise. She'd better be careful to get all the muscle groups right, or else it wouldn't be accurate...

I wonder if I can get her to stop staring at me, Schwann thought. It had already occurred to him that she was doing a poor job of dissuading his interest in her. Had he been insufficiently creepy? He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, or get himself injured, but...

...Was she wearing her dirty clothes from yesterday? There was a rusty spot on her yellow breast pocket, and another, and another. Hadn't she just had a bath?

Schwann was about to call her on it when the door slammed open, propelling them both to their feet. "Sir Schwann!" called one of the guards. "Sir Schwann, please come quickly!"

"What's going on?" The Captain was already heading for the door, Rita close behind him.

"Sir Flynn—the Commandant, he's fighting with Yuri Lowell!" The guard turned to a nearby pair of maids. "Where are they?"

They pointed to the stairs, eyes wide. Faint clangs of steel and raised voices echoed up the stairwell; it didn't sound like a friendly tiff, or even a serious duel, so much as two angry people trying to injure one another.

"Come along," the Captain said to the guards, or possibly all five of them, and all of them hurried after him down the stairs. He was almost glad of the distraction, and sorry for it, but – as usual, as Schwann always did – he'd have to leave that behind for now.

* * *

A/N: Merry Christmas. Better balance next time, I promise-new job is new and awesome, but a bit draining till I get used to it. :o

Also, happy birthday to Alasdair Robert, Resmiranda's firstborn son as of December 22. Congratulations, long life, and awesome health to them. (And wuv. Always wuv.)


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Hi. Um. Half a year. :'D It's been a hell of a time since I last updated. I've started treatment for depression, lost my favorite uncle, had fights with close friends, lost my _job_ out of nowhere, and overall had obscene difficulty getting this chapter written. I have also never, ever rewritten the same two pages so many times in my life. D: So if you spot continuity errors (i.e. a guard who just kinda disappeared), weird phrasing, or any other bits of crappiness, well, at least you know where they came from.

I hereby present to you a really, really long chapter, no breaks or anything. You have been warned, huzzah.

* * *

**XIV.**

The fight happened for many reasons, but it mostly came down to wretched timing.

Flynn had been up the whole night before, entertaining people who wouldn't be able to attend the banquet, and fielding complaints about seating arrangements from those who would, _and_ trying to draw up security rosters, often at the same time. Security at state dinners was usually the First Captain's job, freeing the Commandant to play politics; in this case, though, Flynn had insisted Captain Schwann take his place at dinner, and leave the rest to him.

It had seemed a noble and brilliant idea at the time: not only did Schwann need to stay off his feet, he was a much more experienced conversationalist than Flynn, who would also be excused from refereeing Yuri and the uppermost Imperial nobility for six hours straight. Anything was worth getting out of that.

Besides, Flynn was used to coordinating this kind of thing. How hard could it be?

Pretty hard, he soon found out. It was like the old riddle about the dog, the goat, and the cabbages being ferried across the river, he thought, glaring at the scratched-out lists—given the sheer length of the banquet, there was no way to keep the Knights and guild members apart long enough to prevent them from eating each other.

Most of them could work well enough in small groups, given something useful to do. But at an hours-long event like this, with liquor readily available and tensions running high before the tournament finals? Just the thought was enough to start a migraine.

At about three in the morning, as Flynn was finishing up on a workable compromise, a maid suddenly knocked on his door and announced another visitor. To his relief, it was only Repede, who trotted into the room with a sealed envelope in his mouth. The dog placed it on Flynn's knee and sat down expectantly.

Flynn thanked him, broke the seal, and frowned as he read the note's few lines. His Imperial Majesty requested the Commandant's presence at ten o'clock the next morning...and that was all.

Ioder knew Flynn would report to him before the banquet. Why would the prince send such a pointless message in the middle of the night? If it wasn't an emergency, why couldn't it wait for morning? And what was Repede doing here, anyway?

His first hint came when one of the maids – where had the other one come from? – stopped whispering to her friend long enough to ask, very politely, whether he might know any reason as to why Yuri Lowell had visited the Lady Estellise's room a few hours ago, or why the Princess had insisted on sending a letter to Lord Ioder a few minutes afterward.

As they had hoped, Flynn was too exhausted to hide his shock, or his irritation. Satisfied, the women excused themselves and hurried off to find someone to tell about his reaction. Repede looked at him meaningfully, then gave a couple of short barks and strolled out of the room.

Flynn was tired, not stupid; he knew very well that Yuri wouldn't have done something so conspicuous without a good reason. If that reason was important enough to keep Ioder awake at this hour, and for Repede to be willing to play courier...well, Flynn could only think of one explanation, and it was precisely what he didn't want to deal with right now.

No wonder the Commandant slept poorly, and woke up in a foul mood. There was nothing to be done for it but go speak with Ioder and clear things up as soon as possible; his Majesty would forgive him for being a few minutes early.

His stomach was growling so loudly, though, that he let his attendant talk him into eating breakfast first. In his muzzy-headed state, Flynn also thought it a good idea to get into his uniform while he waited for the food to arrive.

So it was that, as he was washing down the last bite of toast, Flynn scooted his chair back, caught a leg on the rug, and splashed a generous cupful of coffee down his front, where it would be the most visible.

Then, after peeling off the stained garment and wasting several minutes on a hunt through his closets, the Commandant realized he didn't have another one on hand: both his other uniforms were still down at the laundry.

Thankfully, the servants were out of the room, which meant no one had seen anything. He'd just slip out, exchange his clothes, and get dressed again before further disaster struck.

And so it was that Flynn came down the back stairs near Schwann's room – sword on hip, bundle tucked under his arm, scowl on his face – right as Yuri and Repede turned the corner. "Yuri," Flynn said, aghast. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Yuri was just as unpleasantly surprised to see him. "Morning, sunshine." He waved a half-folded page as Flynn walked over to them. Repede woofed a greeting. "Where're you sneaking off to?" Yuri asked.

"I have an errand to run." Flynn stuffed the dirty tunic more firmly into his armpit. "What about you? Isn't it a little early to be visiting Estellise again?"

Little did Flynn know that this was exactly the wrong thing to say. He had no idea that Yuri had gone to bed in a haze of joyous terror, dreamed long, and woken up to find himself snuggling his pillow. Nor did Flynn know about the soul-crushing moment when Yuri had remembered the previous night and thought it was another stupid dream; he'd flung the pillow at the door and buried his head in his arms—where her smell still lingered on his sleeves.

Repede had been strolling down to the lower quarter when Yuri sprinted past him at a dead run. The dog had had quite a time persuading Yuri to stop and read the note clutched in his jaws, but a flying headbutt did the trick at last.

Considering the contents of that note, the usual speed of palace gossip, and the look on his friend's face, Yuri figured Flynn already knew what he was up to. It didn't look like he approved, either.

Luckily, he hadn't asked for Flynn's approval.

Repede saw the way they were eyeing each other and took care to sit down between them. "Actually," Yuri said, ignoring him, "Ioder invited me back. See for yourself." He held the page out.

Flynn snatched it up and read a perfect copy of the note he'd gotten earlier, same time and all, addressed to Yuri. What was Ioder thinking? "That's too bad," he remarked, handing the page back. "I hate to see his Majesty waste time like that."

"Really." Yuri's eyes narrowed. He moved a few steps back and hitched his sword up by the straps. "How so?"

In better circumstances, Flynn might have been able to calm down and properly explain some of his misgivings—that Yuri's intentions might be honorable, but his timing couldn't have been worse; that trying to marry into the royal family would be a humiliating mistake, one that could destabilize the whole Empire and cause Estellise no end of grief; that Flynn couldn't undermine his own credibility by supporting him, which would in turn upset Yuri's guild friends, none of whom Flynn wanted as enemies...and so on.

These were, however, the worst possible circumstances for a civil discussion, and what Flynn actually said was, "He doesn't know that there's no talking you out of doing something stupid once you've made up your—"

Impossibly quick, Yuri tossed his sword up, caught its hilt, and flung the scabbard off, striking the Commandant square in the face. "Whoops! Sorry. My hand slipped," Yuri said over Repede's angry yelp. "Guess I'm just too stupid to watch what I'm doing, huh?"

Flynn didn't move, not even to feel his bruised cheekbone. No matter how furious he was, he couldn't let himself be provoked; people were still laughing about their towel fight. "What do you think you're doing, Yuri?" he rasped. "Why do you of all people suddenly want the throne?"

"I don't." Yuri's voice was much too calm, his grip on the sword too tight. "If it was up to me, I'd never set foot in this place again."

That was exactly what Flynn would've thought. "They won't even let you ask. You know that, right?" He kicked the scabbard over to Yuri. "She's not exactly free to do what she wants, assuming that _is_ what she wants."

Flynn had never seen that look on his friend's face before. "Another crack like that, and you're dead. Got it?" Yuri took a step forward, then another, forcing Repede to scramble aside. "I don't have time for this. Move."

"Why? His Majesty's just going to tell you the same thing I did." Yuri opened his mouth, but Flynn raised a hand, aware that he'd gone too far. "All right, all right. Tell you what—let me talk to him first. I need a chance to—"

"To get over how embarrassing it is for someone from the lower quarter to think he can marry a princess?"

The chill in Yuri's voice stopped Flynn dead. "That...that's not true," he said, but without much conviction.

"Oh, yes it is." Yuri rested his sword on his shoulder, eyes never leaving Flynn's. "Congratulations, o mighty Commandant. You've turned into every other smug bastard up here."

The last of Flynn's patience evaporated in a white-hot rush of anger. "It's not smug to tell someone he's stupid for running head-first into a brick wall!"

"Did it _ever_ occur to you, at any point, that I might know what I was doing? You of all people should've trusted me to have a plan before I—" Yuri broke off with a hard shake of the head. "No. Forget it. That's not the important part." He lowered his sword. "Just answer me one question, Flynn. Does it matter at all to you that I love her?"

It did matter – of _course_ it did, all the more so to hear him come out and say it – but not enough. Flynn grimaced. "You can't win this one, Yuri. So, no, it doesn't." He couldn't quite look him in the eye. "I'm sorry."

"Gotcha," Yuri muttered, and Flynn glanced up to see him leap forward, blade flashing.

"Whoa!" Flynn dropped his clothes, ripped his sword free, and caught the blow an inch from his neck. "Yuri! What the hell are you doing?"

"Settling things. Just like old times, huh?" Yuri leaned in harder, forcing Flynn back.

"You...!" Rage gave Flynn the strength to heave him away. He was ready when Yuri pressed the attack, and for a minute, he was too busy defending himself to remember that his job was to prevent stupid fights, not get into them; there was no telling how long they might have gone but for Flynn's discarded uniform, which caught his heel on a backstep and made him stumble, falling to one knee.

Yuri nearly skewered the Commandant with a downward thrust. Flynn twisted away at the last moment, knocked the lighter blade aside, and scrambled to his feet. "Are you trying to kill me?" he demanded. "Do you really think that'll help?"

His friend gave him a savage grin as they paused for breath. "No. But it'll make me feel a lot better!"

Neither of them had any attention to spare for the servants who had been attracted by the noise. As soon as the fight began, Repede had gone up to a couple of maids he knew and made it clear that someone was going to have to stop those two before they hurt themselves; knowing Sir Schwann was awake, the women hurried off to his room, and returned a minute later with the First Captain and an incensed mage in tow.

The short burst of activity had completely exhausted Schwann. "Get their attention for me, please," he murmured to Rita, leaning against the wall.

For once, Rita didn't argue. She marched down the stairs, waited about two seconds for Yuri or Flynn to notice her – nope, too bad – and made a sharp gesture.

A blast of wind slammed the young men apart and blew out the nearest lamps. In the sudden, dim silence, Schwann's voice echoed down: "Commandant."

Flynn gulped. "Sir Schwann?" He wiped his brow and came to the foot of the stairs. "Pardon us if we woke you," he called, noticing their audience for the first time. The Commandant cleared his throat as he sheathed his sword. "Er. Please let his Majesty know Yuri Lowell is here to see him," he said to the nearest servant, trying to sound casual.

"The rest of you, shoo," ordered Rita, before anyone could make any smart remarks. "All of you, go away. Yuri, Flynn, come here. Now." She turned and started back upward.

Yuri scowled, tapping his sword against his neck. "Look, Rita, you've done plenty—"

"I said _now_!" she snarled, and they bumped into each other in their haste to follow.

It was too late. When they reached the top step, they saw Schwann standing with his eyes closed, unaware of the thin circle shining through his uniform. "You see that?" Rita said loudly, and he opened his eyes with a start. To his alarm, several people had stopped to stare at his chest, whispering amongst themselves.

"That," Rita continued, pitching her voice to carry, "is the device I told you guys about, the one I'm using to monitor his heart rate. When it glows like that, it means he's in trouble." She glared at them, fists on hips. "It was doing just fine till he had to run down here!"

They mumbled and shuffled their feet like sullen kids. At least they weren't arguing over who'd started it...yet.

Repede gave them his opinion in a series of growling barks. "Yeah, yeah," Yuri muttered, and the dog made a show of turning and stalking away in disgust.

"Is the Captain all right, miss?" a manservant asked, presenting Yuri with his scabbard. Downstairs, they could hear someone exclaiming over the Commandant's dirty uniform.

Rita shrugged. "He'll be fine, as soon as someone helps him to his room." They took the hint and stationed themselves on either side of the older man, lifting him away from the wall.

A maid came up behind Rita as the girl started to follow them. "Excuse me, Miss Mordio. Isn't it time for you to start getting ready?"

Now? Really? "Come get me in twenty minutes." Rita waved her off. "Call me crazy, but I think keeping Schwann alive is a little more important than picking shoes out."

"Well..." The woman obviously wasn't sure about that.

They ignored her all the way down the hall, till they were close enough for the guards at Schwann's door to open it for them. "Twenty minutes," Rita repeated. She stepped inside and slammed the door shut, praying the maid wouldn't call for reinforcements.

"I really do apologize, Sir Schwann," Flynn said as they set the Captain down in his armchair. "I should never have let this happen."

"Agreed," Rita snapped.

"Who asked you?" Yuri settled into the other chair, sword across his lap.

"You did when you made us break it up!" The mage kicked his ankle in passing. She leaned over Schwann, squinting at the bright shape on his chest. "How do you feel, old man?"

"Not too bad," he murmured. His eyes fluttered shut. "Nice one, by the way. I'd rather have a glowing heart-rate monitor than a glowing heart any day."

"I thought it up last night, in case something like this happened." Rita picked up his empty wineglass and made her way over to the sideboard, setting the glass on the marble countertop. "What set you two off, anyway?" She uncorked a bottle with a resounding _phmp_. "Let me guess—Estelle?"

Yuri made an unpleasant noise.

Flynn picked up a mirror and examined the fast-spreading bruise beneath his eye. "Has anyone _not_ already heard about that?"

"What, that Yuri's courting Estelle? Or that he kicked it off with another fight?" Rita poured a careful half-glass and sniffed at it, wrinkling her nose. "At least you had clothes on this time."

Flynn turned three shades of pink. "I'd have a much easier time staying out of fights if he didn't keep starting them!"

Ah, there it was. She jammed the cork back in and glanced at Schwann; his hand was covering his chest, eyes still closed.

"I wouldn't have to start anything if our Commandant wasn't such a hypocrite," Yuri said to Rita as she crossed the room again. "You can argue politics and legal technicalities all you want—he just doesn't think I'm good enough."

Rita paused, hand on hip. "Neither do I," she pointed out. "And I came right out and said so."

"Yeah, you did," he grumbled, "but at least you had some good reasons. He's just being a snotwad."

"Hey!" Flynn strode over and grabbed the back of Yuri's chair. "You're the one who—"

"That's enough." They looked at Schwann as he heaved a long sigh. "I'm sorry you didn't approve of my plan, Flynn." His eyes opened as Rita poked his arm and made him take the glass. "I'd be happy to explain any part of it for you in greater detail, if that would help."

The Commandant frowned, releasing the chair. "I...I'm sorry, Sir Schwann. I don't know what you mean."

Yuri fidgeted as Rita and Schwann looked at each other, then turned to glare at him in unison. "You didn't even try to explain about the letter," she accused him. "You just wanted to get into a fight! It really was your fault, you fucking idiot!"

"Rita!" Flynn protested, with an embarrassed glance at Schwann.

"Oh, stuff it, Flynn!" Rita treated herself to a mental image of Yuri's hair on fire before she went on, "Schwann gave Yuri a letter last night with a whole plan laid out—you remember how Ioder wanted to make Yuri a True Knight?" Flynn nodded. "Well, if Yuri accepts it, they have to let him into the Council room as a ceremonial member of the Knights. Once he's actually inside, he can ask to marry Estelle—there's some way commoners can do it that'll keep him from getting any titles or duties or anything like that." She nodded at Flynn's dawning comprehension. "See? He'd be called 'royal consort,' but that'd just make him a glorified bodyguard, not a noble, so he wouldn't be a threat to anyone in the line of succession. He and Estelle would spend most of their time outside the castle, anyway, doing ambassador stuff for Ioder." The mage cupped her elbow in one hand and tapped her chin. "There aren't any other suitors with a lot of support right now, and the three or four guys most likely to get it are all total jerks. So this is a good idea, and it could actually work, _if_ Yuri plays his cards right, and_ if_ he doesn't blow it before he even starts!" Stomp. "Got it?"

Flynn sank onto a footstool, stunned. Schwann took a sip of wine.

"What she said," Yuri agreed.

His complacency was shattered as Flynn jumped to his feet and dealt him a swift whack to the head. "Why didn't you tell me any of that?" the Commandant raged. "All you had to say was 'Talk to Captain Schwann,' and this never would have happened!"

"Ow!" Yuri retreated to a safe distance, clutching his head. "Look, why should I have to explain myself to you in the first place? I'd back _you_ up on something this important!"

Another sigh from the armchair. "That's because you don't think things through," Schwann replied. "Without any loopholes to work with, you'd have no chance of marrying her. You knew that, too, or you would've tried it already." He raised his voice as they all started to speak at once: "Listen. We don't have much time, so we might as well get a few things clear while you're all here." The Captain gestured with his glass. "Even before I wrote that letter, Lord Ioder was planning to meet with you both sometime soon and make sure you were on the same page about Estellise, before anything untoward happened."

"It's too late for that," the mage said helpfully.

"Thank you, Rita. Speaking of which..." Schwann frowned at a speck on the glass's rim. "Everyone needs to watch their behavior tonight, Yuri, but I'm particularly worried about you and Rita."

"Don't lump me in with this moron!" she snapped. Part of her was relieved, though; she recalled Schwann saying he wanted to talk about something, and how she had panicked, thinking he was going to ask what the hell had induced her to fall asleep on his bed. Rita couldn't tell him it had just seemed like a good idea to be up there, or that she hadn't been thinking with her head so much as her—

"That, right there. Stop it." Schwann pointed at her, and she flushed. "There are plenty of people who would prefer Yuri _not _marry the princess, and any unpleasantness on your part will help them immensely." The Captain took another sip. "You both did well enough at the dance, but you'll have to do better from now on."

"How?" the mage demanded. "I only hurt one guy the whole time, and everyone agreed he deserved it!"

"Yeah. I sucked at dancing, but I didn't hit anyone," said Yuri.

"Your dancing did indeed suck, and by the way, Rita, so does your curtsy." Schwann set the glass down, apparently unaware of the offense he'd caused. "The point is, you can't let your guard down around the nobility just because you got through one party unscathed. Everyone knows you two are the most likely to lose your tempers, so if anyone wants to make Estellise look bad, you're going to be their primary targets."

Irritated as she was, Rita had to admit she'd been worrying about that. She could put up with a few hours of dancing, but being trapped in one spot for so long, with all those people...

Yuri grunted. "This is why I hate this place. I don't care how important it is to play nice, old man, I'm not kissing anyone's—"

"No one's asking you to," Schwann said, in a more conciliatory tone. "Think of it as beating them at their own game, Yuri. The better you present yourself, the harder it'll be for anyone to say you're just a lowborn thug."

"Makes sense, but I still don't like it." Yuri stretched his arms over his head. "If I'm technically a Knight, can I at least challenge people to duels or something? That's pretty civilized, as far as threats go."

"With proper provocation, yes, you can." Schwann smiled faintly. "And, Flynn?" The Commandant looked up. "Yuri's not entirely wrong about your attitude. Estellise's great-great-grandfather was born a commoner, too, but that didn't stop his grandnephew from becoming Emperor. Keep that in mind before you dismiss the idea out of hand."

Flynn wanted to say something very convincing about Yuri's background having nothing to do with it, but there was no point. "Yes, sir," he muttered.

"Give him a chance. That's all I ask." Schwann glanced at the door. "Now, out, all of you. We've got a long day ahead of us."

"Already? Forget it." Rita kicked his chair. "I'm not leaving till I'm sure you'll be okay."

Schwann shook his head. "You've been here much too long already, Rita. I—" He stopped and covered his chest again, right as someone tapped on the door. "Come in!"

It was a page in Ioder's livery. "Please excuse us," Flynn told Schwann, gesturing at Rita to come with them. She scowled and sat down in the smaller chair, arms crossed.

"See you guys tonight," Yuri said cheerfully, enjoying his friend's discomfiture. "C'mon, Flynn."

"...Right." Knowing full well that Rita couldn't be dislodged without further violence, the Commandant had no choice but to nod at them and follow Yuri out of the room.

A moment later, though, Yuri rushed back in, nearly knocking Flynn over. "I almost forgot—thanks, old man," he said, and ducked his head. "I mean it. This whole thing is...I really don't know how to thank you enough."

"You're very welcome. It's the least I could do for her," Schwann replied, and waved at him. "Go on. If you can't take Rita with you, at least tell someone she's still here."

Yuri smirked. "Aye aye, Captain." He gave a mock salute as the door shut behind them.

"Screw you, too!" Rita sat up. "And how do you know when someone's standing out there, anyway?"

"Simple." The Captain indicated the long, stiff-woven rug by the room's entrance. "See how big the gap is under the door? The rug goes all the way out to the hall, so you can see this end move when someone outside steps on it."

"Huh." Rita thought about it for a second and nodded. "Okay. Now take your shirt off."

Schwann ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, I don't think you actually said that. Try again."

"I did, too! I don't have to suck up to _you_, so there." The mage frowned at his chest, where a sliver of light still showed through the orange fabric. She walked over, perched on the chair arm, and leaned down over him, uncomfortably close. "You don't have to get naked. I just want to take a look." Poke. Poke. "Do you think the rest of your uniform will be thick enough to hide it at the banquet?"

She smelled wrong, like too much soap. "I don't know, Rita. I'd rather not think about it." He squirmed away. "Look, I'll pull my shirt up if you give me some space."

The mage stood back, displeased. As he started to lift his tunic, Schwann noticed the spots on her front again and paused. "That's right, I was going to ask—isn't that what you were wearing yesterday, during the operation?"

Rita glanced down. "Yeah. Why?"

Schwann stared at her in unfeigned horror. "You got cleaned up and put your bloody clothes right back on? Who _does_ that?"

"I didn't have anything else to change into! That's all there was in the bathroom except some robes, and even I know better than to walk around the castle in a bathrobe," she retorted.

That made for an entertaining mental image. She must have noticed him trying not to smirk, because she punched him in the shoulder. "No hitting," he reminded her.

Rita's eyes widened, and she looked so contrite that he almost laughed again. "Damn it!" She threw herself into the other chair. "I can't even remember not to hit you! How am I supposed to never say the wrong thing to anyone ever again?"

"I wouldn't worry about that. You've got a lot more leeway than Yuri does. I just figured he'd be more willing to listen if he wasn't the only one being lectured." Schwann eased his tunic up in one hand, exposing the blastia. "Here. Have at it."

She got back up, scowling, and inspected him from a few feet away. "Hm. Word's already out that you've got a glowing thing on you, but it's still not a good idea for a lot of people to see it. Seems to correspond to your pulse...or is it blood pressure?" Rita thumbed open her ever-present notebook, unclipped a pen, and began writing furiously. Her eyes flicked back and forth from the page to his chest, page, chest, page, chest. "Gimme your wrist." He obliged. "When you were in the bath, did you notice any water getting in there?" she asked after a few seconds.

"I figured it wasn't a perfect seal anymore, so I didn't let it get wet," he said, and the girl nodded approval, releasing his arm. He turned his head so he wouldn't have to watch her write down the results. "You know, I spent most of the last ten years reminding myself that no one knew this thing was there, because they couldn't see it." Schwann smiled wryly. "Should've enjoyed it while it was still invisible, huh?"

Rita frowned. The pencil stopped for a few seconds; to his relief, she scribbled a few more words and clapped the book shut. "All right, I'm done."

The Captain pulled his tunic down and smoothed it out with a sigh. Letting her see him half-dressed might be okay in Capua Torim – sort of, if he didn't think about it at all – but he didn't relish the notion of anyone walking in on them here.

Rita was still frowning when he looked up. "What's the matter?" he inquired.

She tapped her foot a couple of times. "Why do I have more leeway than Yuri?"

"Leeway...? Ah." Schwann shrugged, retrieving his cup. "Well, for one thing, you're not the one campaigning to marry a princess. Everyone knows mages are eccentric, and you're young enough that people will cut you some slack. To be honest, though, it's mostly because you're a girl." He chuckled at her suspicious glance. "I'm serious. When you were dancing with all those strange noblemen, did any of them seem particularly offended by anything you said?"

The mage had to think about it for a moment. "Now that you mention it, no, not really. I just tried not to swear at anyone, except when Lord Whatshisface wouldn't stop touching my hip."

"I heard about that." Schwann nodded gravely. "If anyone else tries that, you can go right ahead and fry him. I'll provide an alibi if need be."

"Thanks. I'll hold you to that." Rita almost smiled, but it disappeared as she sat down. "So what're you trying to say? It's okay if I'm a little rude, because I'm too young and weird for them to take me seriously?"

"No, no, no." The Captain wagged a finger at her. "Think about it. Everyone's heard of the genius mage Mordio, but it wasn't till recently that anyone even knew you were female. Then Estelle's book described this violent, brilliant teenage girl who helped develop the four spirits and take down the Adephagos, and is cranking fantastically important stuff out to this very day." Sip. "Imagine everyone's surprise when they went to the dance and saw that the mythical Rita Mordio was not only a real person, but actually pretty cute."

"Oh, shut up!" Rita slouched in her chair, scowling fiercely, as if determined to be as uncute as possible. It wasn't working. "I'd better learn to be nice before the novelty wears off, then."

Schwann rubbed his forehead. "At the very least, you need to learn to live with compliments. No one likes talking to someone who gets mad every time you say something nice to her." He wondered where the maids were; someone should have come to collect her already.

"I know, I know." The mage scratched her leg through the red-striped stocking. "I'm not you, okay? I can't flip a switch in my head and suddenly be good at all this crap."

"Believe it or not, Rita, no one's born with a full set of social skills, myself included." The Captain gave a one-shoulder shrug. "You already know how to be a mage, so now you can start figuring out how to be a girl."

Rita wrinkled her nose. "Forget it. I've got better things to do."

He finished the rest of the wine in one gulp. "I hate to break it to you, but unless you plan on skipping town in the next few hours, you may not have a choice."

Blink. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"For one thing, it wouldn't kill you to make friends with more girls your age. But that's not your biggest problem." Schwann set the glass on the little table, next to their breakfast dishes. "Remember how men are all scumbags, and you don't look like a kid anymore? I didn't want to come right out and say this, but some of your leeway tonight will come from guys who _like _rudeness, if you catch my drift."

She didn't, so after a moment, he clarified, "You will get hit on, and you will have to handle it gracefully."

"Ew!" The girl recoiled as far as the chair would allow. "You said I was too young for that!"

He shook his head. "I said you were too young for anything serious. At an Imperial banquet, that just means no one will come right out and proposition you. Anything else is fair game."

"You've got to be kidding!" Rita slammed her fist into the chair arm, making him wince. "Did they miss the part where I'm only sixteen?"

"No, but from a stranger's point of view, that just makes you more impressive." Seeing her murderous expression, Schwann hastened to add, "I don't think it's okay, either, but as far as most people are concerned, you don't really count as a sixteen-year-old."

Rita stared at the thin blue edge on his chest, arms folded in thought. "Explain," she said presently. "And calm down before you pass out again. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Despite his apprehension, Schwann smiled. "All right, then." He leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles, trying to look nonchalant. "Again, think about it from someone else's perspective. You've already got your own house, a distinguished career, friends in high places—there's a lot going for you, but it's the way you carry yourself that really gets people's attention. Even when you're being rude, you've got more self-confidence than most girls – women – twice your age. This may sound creepy, but I have to tell you—" because I know you'll never get it, he thought darkly, "—that's like catnip to most people, even the ones who know better. Ever wonder why so many girls fall for arrogant pricks, and guys go for women who walk all over 'em? That's why."

"Really?" The mage's face went through a series of interesting contortions as she struggled to process the idea. "Then, indiscriminate attraction applies to looks _and _personality?"

"I wouldn't call it 'indiscriminate' at all," he disagreed. "Different traits appeal to different people, but there are some things that almost everyone likes." More light was starting to seep through his uniform. Ignoring it, he took a deep breath, and said, "For example, it's hard not to notice a girl who can hold her own at her first dance, then jump out and call Captain Schwann an idiot the very next day."

"Hm. I guess." Rita fiddled with her hair, stuffing the longer strands haphazardly under her goggles. "Anything else I need to know?"

Schwann cleared his throat. "Yeah, actually." He should've known she wouldn't pick up on any hints, however blatant. It was time to spell things out for her in a convincing, yet nonthreatening way; all he had to do was come up with the perfect way to tell her, "I want to sleep with you, but don't worry too much about it," and...

As he met her gaze, the words slipped steadily away, leaving a dense layer of silence where his thoughts should've been. What were they talking about again?

Rita cocked her head at him, impatience giving way to concern. "What? What is it?"

"Just having a brain fart," he mumbled. "Give me a second." Schwann rubbed the back of his neck, closing his eyes again. Why the hell couldn't he think straight?

After a few seconds, his plan slunk back into the forefront of his brain, dragging a trail of logic behind it: he needed to make a quick, sincere confession, because it was the easiest way to clear his conscience and put Rita on her guard in case his feelings got any further out of hand.

The plan's only flaw was that it was bloody stupid, and he'd never be able to do it. His few seconds of desperate plotting in the closet had failed to take into account the fact that his success would hinge on convincing her not to trust him. With anyone else, he could have gotten his point across without destroying the balance of their relationship, but not with Rita.

The longer he thought about it, the dumber his idea sounded. Rita was wise beyond her years in many, many ways, and this was not one of them; it would be a long time before she'd be able to respond to romantic interest as anything but a joke, or a threat, and his would be no different—worse, actually, considering it was coming from one of her closest friends.

What would be better for her mental well-being, he wondered: to be advised, watched over and occasionally ogled by someone who genuinely cared about her, however unwholesome his thoughts might be? Or to learn that ol' Raven wasn't as harmless as she'd thought, and she should really be more careful where she fell asleep from now on?

Put that way, honesty didn't seem so noble after all. He was a grown man, wasn't he? Where did he get off, telling a sixteen-year-old child that it was her responsibility to make him stop thinking about her?

"Say something," Rita commanded, breaking into his reverie.

Schwann raised his eyes, taking in her small, tense figure, reminding himself how very young she was. He knew damn well what it was like to be tied to someone you didn't trust, and he wouldn't wish that on anyone, in any degree, much less Rita. If he was being too cautious, and had a selfish interest in not giving up _his _safety, either, so be it.

With one last twinge in his chest, Schwann concentrated on taking deep, even breaths. "Sorry, felt weird for a second. I'm fine now," he said lightly. "I just wanted to say, don't worry too much about tonight. With most guys, all you'll have to do is stand your ground and not kill anyone. But there'll always be one or two creeps who think a girl old enough to be attractive is old enough for...you know." He rested his head on one hand, so she couldn't see him bite the inside of his cheek. "Watch out for those."

"Well, yeah, even I know that. It's just never applied to me before." Rita's brows knitted in thought. "So," she muttered, "if I learn better manners...guys will think I'm boring, and leave me alone?"

That startled a laugh out of him. "No! Were you listening at all?"

"Damn it!" Rita scrunched down again, pulling her legs up and crossing her arms over them. "Isn't there some way I can be rude enough to make them leave me alone, but not rude enough to embarrass Estelle?" she asked plaintively.

"No. Please don't try it." Schwann wanted to reach over and pat her knee, but knew better. "You don't want to alienate someone who might turn into a political ally, or a good source of business." He forced himself to smile. "Besides, you never know if you'll change your mind in a few years."

Rita's arms tightened. "Don't be stupid, old man." She tipped her head back, and he looked away. "I mean..." He heard her swallow. "You know what? Never mind."

"No, go on," said Schwann, before he could stop himself. "You might as well, if you're going to hang out in here much longer."

"Fine, then." To his surprise, Rita removed her goggles and turned them over in her hands, tapping the pink lenses with both thumbnails. "Last night, at my house, remember how Estelle and Judith were trying to make me feel better? I was happy to see them, but when they started hugging me, I got freaked out. All I could think about was making them stop." She twisted the strap around her right hand and pulled it taut. "How's that for self-confidence?"

Ouch. Now he was really glad he'd kept his mouth shut. "There's nothing wrong with wanting affection on your own terms," Schwann told her in his best kindly-older-friend tone. "You were upset to begin with, and you're not used to touchy-feely stuff like that. You didn't get much of it when you were a kid, right?"

"I don't know. I've never liked it." She freed her hand, examining the faint lines left on her skin. "That's why Auntie and I didn't get along. She was always trying to pick me up and cuddle me or something, and I wouldn't let her."

Another twinge in his chest. "Some people are just like that, Rita. It doesn't make you some kind of freak." He felt the edges of his blastia through the thin fabric. "I mean, if you absolutely couldn't stand to be touched at all, you wouldn't have lasted through our first dance, much less the whole thing."

"That was different." She cracked her knuckles. "I knew exactly what you were going to do, and for how long. Besides..." Rita sat up, and he risked another peek at her. She looked thoughtful. "You were really good about being firm, but not grabby. Karol acted like I had the plague, and the other guys were all stiff, or sweaty, or something. If I'd started with anyone else, I don't think I'd have put up with it."

He was about to compliment her right back when Rita thumped her goggles onto the table. "Hey! That reminds me of something else I wanted to ask you."

Schwann could think of several things he didn't want her to ask. "What is it?"

Rita, being Rita, didn't notice his wariness. "The presents and stuff I've gotten from people, besides your stupid rose—if I keep it, does that mean I'm encouraging the guys who sent it? And if I sell any of it, is that some kind of insult?"

The Captain sat there for the count of five, blank-faced. "Well," he said at last. "If you kept some things and sold the rest, then, yes, whoever sent the keepers would see that as encouragement, and the others would be insulted. Selling it all would be pretty crass."

"I figured. Some of it's really nice, but I don't need so much fancy crap." The girl ran a hand through her damp hair. "I asked Judith when we were going through it last night, but she wasn't sure, either." Pause. "I assume it's a big thing to wear someone's present to a dance, or a banquet, where everyone will see it?"

"Sometimes. It depends what it is, and who gave it to you." Where the hell were the maids?

Rita pursed her lips. "What if it's something you're borrowing?"

"Borrowing?" He shrugged. "That doesn't mean much of anything. Lots of young ladies trade jewelry for different events."

"Hmm." The girl propped her chin on one hand. "I might just borrow the stuff I wear tonight, then. I really liked the black pearls and the ruby pendant, but I don't know any of the guys who sent them." She fingered her earlobe. "Besides, they all came with matching earrings. If any of the maids saw that, they'd be coming after me with needles."

Schwann weighed his options, and made a Ravenish face. "Why not? You'd look great with earrings."

"I don't care how they'd look," she said flatly. "It'd hurt, and they'd get caught in things, and I'd never get a chance to wear them anyway."

"So?" He raised an eyebrow. "You can always take them out when you're working. Earrings are great for special occasions, 'cause they emphasize your neck and all this—" The Captain indicated the lower half of his face. "And yours is nice to begin with."

"Shut up! This is stupid. You're stupid." Rita hopped to her feet and advanced a few steps, rapping on his blastia. "I can't see it anymore. Let me check your pulse again, and then I'll get out of here."

Ha! It worked! "Probably a good idea," Schwann agreed, holding out his wrist. She took it and turned to watch the clock.

He only had a few seconds to reflect on his success before Rita let go. "Almost normal. Do you feel any better?"

The Captain shrugged. "I should be all right now, as long as I stay put."

"Good. If anything else happens, let me take care of it." Without warning, Rita gave him a bright, sweet smile. "Thanks for not kicking me out. I'll see you later."

"Wait—" Schwann leapt to his feet, only to fall back into the chair as dizziness swamped him.

"You idiot!" Rita turned and grabbed his shoulder as he gasped for breath. "What the hell was that?" she snarled, all business again.

Schwann couldn't answer. Worse than his physical discomfort was the fact that he'd moved on sheer impulse; that hadn't happened in years, he thought, not since he'd been made First Captain. Alexei had been so emphatic about the importance of maintaining self-control at all times, and his occasional corrections so very explicit, that Schwann couldn't suppress a stab of fear at having broken character. The Commandant was dead and gone, but...

"Hey." A small palm hit the top of his head, and Schwann caught his breath. "Speak to me, old man, or I'm calling Estelle to come heal you."

His training kicked in; he felt himself smile and say, "Sorry about that," as his mind raced for an explanation better than _You've never done that before, warn me next time _or _Alexei is still giving me panic attacks_. Even he was surprised to hear the next thing out of his mouth: "You know, this is dumb, but I was thinking...why don't I do your hair for you again?"

Rita crouched to meet his eyes, giving him such a penetrant glare that he was afraid she could see straight through him. "I thought you were trying to get me out of here, old man. What gives?"

Schwann couldn't very well admit that he'd thought so, too. "Yeah, but I still owe you, don't I? I could help you cut a step out of the whole process," he improvised. "If your hair's already the way you want it when you get down there, that's one less thing you'll have to argue about. I mean, a braid's not that formal, but you can always add a fancy hairclip or something, right?"

"They'll argue with me anyway if I show up in something that isn't nice enough," the mage objected.

"And you'll disagree with everything else they suggest, so you might as well have something to fall back on. Grab that—" Schwann nodded at the footstool. "—and come sit down over here. It'll just take a minute."

The girl tried to stare him down, but he had regained enough of his composure to stare right back. "You weirdo," she said irritably, and went to retrieve the stool.

It wasn't the most awkward situation Schwann had ever been in, but close enough. This was what came of spending too much time around Rita: if he hadn't known how very rare it was for her to smile at anyone like that – much less an annoying old man like him – he might not have been affected at all. Now he was stuck with her again, and it was his own stupid fault.

...Actually, the only other time he'd seen her look like that was at Estelle, or at his blastia. It was almost like—

He did a mental about-face and walked briskly away from that line of thought, only to be confronted with a long, bare stretch of neck as she sat down and flicked her shoulder-length hair aside. "Let me know when you're ready to tie it off. I've got one somewhere."

"Okay." The Captain dragged his eyes back to the crown of her head. "Did you comb this out at all before you snuck out of the bathroom?"

She shrugged.

"...Okay, then." He started gathering a neat, loose handful of hair.

Neither of them spoke for a couple of minutes. Schwann was busy thinking of absolutely nothing, and braiding as quickly as he could, while Rita was wondering about the scratched-out lines Yuri had told her about. Schwann had been unusually straightforward this morning, but she had a feeling that wouldn't last if she were to ask him what he'd written about her.

Besides, the subject felt far too personal to bring up while he was messing with her hair. Maybe she'd be better off finding out who had it at the moment and taking a look for herself?

Blech. At least he hadn't mentioned hair-braiding as an example of her allowing someone to touch her. She wasn't okay with the fact that he constituted the majority of the few times she could recall not minding physical contact—this wasn't the same thing as hugging, of course, and she was reasonably sure she'd murder him if he tried it, but...

No, she wasn't sure at all. Rita shook her head, trying to shake off her mounting frustration.

"Whoops." She felt the hair slip out of Schwann's grasp. "Did I pull too hard?" he asked.

"N-no. That was my fault." The girl straightened up, extending her legs. She wasn't sorry, either. If anything, she wished he'd slow down a bit.

Schwann tapped the back of her head in mild reproof. "Try to hold still. I was almost done."

She grunted, aware that her hands were trembling. She wanted to hurt something, but he was the only one here, and it wasn't his fault that she was embarrassed. He probably didn't even realize that she hadn't needed to move her hair off her neck like that; she'd just wanted to.

As he pulled the loose braid apart and started again, Rita's mind seethed with the effort of sorting through everything she was feeling. Being out of her element always put her on the defensive, of course, but this was something new. The hitherto unthinkable was beginning to emerge, buoyed by the realization that the one she was really mad at was herself.

Maybe, she thought, just maybe, there was nothing wrong with allowing for the possibility of ever wanting a relationship with someone when she was a little older. Why should she waste time and energy beating herself up for having normal, touchy-feely human emotions? Was she going to spend the rest of her life being as dumb as Yuri, letting fear keep her from even trying to do what she wanted? Screw you, brain, she thought. You're not the boss of me!

And her brain, which knew her too well, answered, All right, if you're so mature now, why don't you talk it over with Schwann? Tell him he's the reason you think you might be ready for an adult relationship. Tell him exactly how you want him to pay you back for saving his life, too. The way he's been talking about you, he might just do it!

Damn it to hell. Her face was so hot that it felt sunburned. "What are you going to do if one of the guild members recognizes you tonight?" Rita asked abruptly.

Schwann paused mid-braid. "That came out of nowhere," he remarked, and the steady, weaving pressure on her scalp resumed. "For your information, plenty of people have figured out that Raven and Schwann look a whole lot alike. It's not like I didn't see this coming when Raven was made Guild Liaison last year."

Rita snorted. "Too bad you couldn't have stayed dead, the way your guys kept telling everyone you were gonna be the next Commandant." Schwann had had to shut them up by making a very public return, declaring his support for Ioder and rejecting the Prince's offer to promote him from First Captaincy. It had been a formality, of course, but a crucial one.

The Captain sighed heavily. "They're good men, all of them."

"That's fine, as long as 'good' doesn't intersect with 'loud and stupid.'"

"No one's perfect." Without thinking – again – Schwann arched his fingers and ran them down her scalp. Not only did she fail to object, she actually leaned back a bit as he pulled his hand away, making his heart do a quick _tck-tck_. "There are a couple schools of thought on Captain Schwann and Raven of Brave Vesperia," Schwann said briskly, before either of them could read anything into it. "Some people think they're the same guy, and there's some kind of elaborate conspiracy going on—here, I need to tie this off."

Feeling a little dazed, Rita fumbled around in her coat; somewhere amongst her inner-pocket detritus was a snarl of hairbands that had been there for several years, possibly forever. "How many people?" she asked, extracting a suitable specimen.

"Not too many. I mean, Raven's Raven. He and Schwann are polar opposites, and always have been." Schwann accepted the tie, secured the braid with it, and sat back. "If you ask Raven's guild buddies what he was doing the night of the big dance, they'll all tell you he was getting drunk with some friends in the public quarter, and the Knights arrested him around midnight for peeing in a fountain."

"What?" Rita felt the back of her head, wondering if she could get away with making him do it again. "Why would they say that?"

"Because I had Karol tell everyone about it, and how the city watch gave Harry a warning about Raven's behavior, and Harry bribed them to keep quiet. Apparently, ol' Raven was making a lot of stupid threats about going up to the castle." He chuckled. "Word will get around, and it'll make a lot of sense. Most people think Raven and Schwann are related somehow, but totally hate each other."

"That's ridiculous!" Rita snapped. "Did you start that one, too?" She got up to face him, hands on hips. "And why make Karol do your dirty work? Thanks to you, he's probably dead now!"

Schwann frowned up at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when you told him to distract the crowd last night, he started yelling about how he couldn't find Nan. She found out about it, and I don't even know what she did to him, because she wound up dragging him off!" It had actually been pretty funny, but Rita wasn't going to pass up the excuse to take some anger out on him.

The Captain's frown deepened. "That wasn't my idea, Rita. When he told me how many people were waiting to meet us, he offered to come up with a distraction so I could get down without being seen."

Rita's mouth opened and shut. "You mean, he did that all on his own? On purpose?"

Schwann nodded.

She knew she should be upset at her complete failure to pick a fight, but the longer Rita thought about Karol deliberately embarrassing his girlfriend in front of hundreds of people, the more she enjoyed the thought of Nan beating the crap out of him. "I...see." Despite her best efforts, the corners of her mouth began to creep upward.

"Sounds about right. That boy's getting a big head," said Schwann, sounding a lot like Raven. "If she wants to knock some sense into him, she's got my permission."

"It'd be good for him." Rita smirked. "I hope they stay together. I can just see them ten years from now. She'll make him do all the chores around the house while she sits there—"

"And he'll have to wear an apron, and a cute little scarf," Schwann added, eager to keep the joke going.

It wasn't _that _funny, but Rita was so tired that the mental image made her laugh out loud. "And he'll be dragging around a ball and chain on one leg—"

Schwann laughed, too. "And she'll say, 'Stop crying, unless you want me to—'"

A knock on the door startled them both. Before Schwann could say anything, the door swung open to reveal Estelle, flanked by four servants. "Good morning, Sir Schwann," the princess said, all imperious dignity. "I heard you were indisposed, so I came to heal you." Estelle walked into the room by herself, giving Schwann a quizzical look. "It sounds like you're feeling better, though."

How long had they been standing out there? The servants all wore politely incredulous expressions, as if wondering whether they had actually heard Captain Schwann laugh. "He's doing much better," Rita said stiffly, "but he could use some work."

"As for you—" Estelle fixed Rita with a cold eye, hands on hips. "You promised me last night that you wouldn't tell Yuri anything. Didn't you?"

The mage felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "Yeah," she managed. "But—"

"But you went right out and did it anyway! He also said you yelled at him, told him a lot of personal things, and forced him to come see me in the middle of the night." Estelle drew a deep breath, as if to really let her have it—and threw her arms around Rita, swinging her in a wide half-circle. "Thank you so, _so_ much!"

"Hey!" the mage cried, struggling to free herself in reflexive panic. "Stop that! Lemme go!"

Estelle giggled, whirling them both to a halt. "Give me a second to heal Sir Schwann," she told Rita, letting her friend scuttle away. "Then you have to start getting ready for tonight. We moved all your things to my mother's old room, so we can all get dressed and go down to dinner together. It's going to be so much fun!"

Rita doubted that, but she was still too punch-drunk to argue.

Looking on, Schwann smiled to himself, pondering the maids' strategy: they had taken so long not only because they had been assembling everything they would need in a remote, escape-proof location, but they'd also enlisted the princess – who was having a very busy day already – to make sure Rita came quietly.

"Hold still, please," Estelle said to him, and he complied, letting the familiar golden light wash over him. His breathing immediately became easier, his head clearer.

"I'm sorry," Rita mumbled, halfway across the room. She rubbed her arms, trying to work off the feel of Estelle's grip. "I didn't mean to say all that stuff. When Yuri made me read the letter, I just..."

"Please, don't worry about it." The princess took her friend's hands. "If you hadn't broken your promise, he might never have said anything to me. And if Sir Schwann hadn't come up with such an ingenious solution..." Estelle released Rita, giving Schwann a short bow. "Thank you both, from the bottom of my heart."

Schwann bent his head in return. "Think nothing of it, Lady Estellise. If you wish to do me any service, you need only take Rita with you when you go—she's helped me more than enough for today."

Rita made a face at him. "You're welcome."

Smiling, Estelle inclined her head. "It will be my pleasure, Sir Schwann. We look forward to seeing you tonight." The princess linked her arm through Rita's, towing her across the room. "Come on, Rita, you have to see what we've got for you to choose from! My mother was about your size, but they've made some newer gowns, too, if you like. We can make some alterations if you can't quite fit into them, or we can have more brought in. Your hair looks so cute, by the way..."

Her voice trailed off as she pulled Rita out into the hall. The mage glanced over her shoulder at Schwann, but before she could say anything, the maids surrounded her in a solid block – "_Finally_," one of them muttered – and the guards hurried to pull the door shut behind them.

Schwann sat there a few minutes, looking at her goggles on the table. When someone came to clear the dishes, they could take the goggles back to her room. Till then – and afterward – he would have to be an adult, and quit fixating on someone he only wanted because he couldn't have her. Never mind her loyalty, or her passion, or that tiny mole on the nape of her neck; he was just being perverse, he told himself, finding the most efficient way to torment himself on a regular basis. The trick was not to mix her up in his idiocy any more than he already had.

The real trick would be keeping anyone from noticing how hard he was falling for her.


	15. Chapter 15

**XV.**

Her escort kept in tight formation as they set off down the hall. They needn't have bothered – Rita wasn't in the mood for another daring escape – but she decided not to make an issue of it.

Their destination was an open door in an older wing of the palace, guarded by two more servants. Rita was herded into a large, pink-lit, lavender-scented room; as soon as they were all inside, the oldest maid slammed the door shut, locked it, and pocketed the key.

The mage scowled and pulled free of Estelle's grip. "Relax, will you? I'm not going anywhere." She glanced around in distaste, rubbing her arm, and did a double take—most of her presents had been moved up here, but they were the merest drop in a vast, glittering ocean of feminine crap. On the nearest table alone, she counted a dozen hair combs, a couple of hand mirrors, seven fans, a half dozen cut-glass perfume bottles, a pile of folded scarves or wraps or something, two makeup cases, and a literally overflowing jewelry box.

More tables had been dragged in to accommodate the surplus crap, and the dressers were full, too. There was a little space around the dressing table at one end of the room, but so many jars had been stacked on the vanity's surface that Rita could hardly see the mirror.

"You've got that right," the old woman said crisply. She pointed to a tall folding screen in the corner, almost hidden behind a series of free-standing garment racks. "First things first, miss. You'll find water, soap, and towels on the bench back there. Once you've cleaned up a bit, we can get started."

Rita had very clear views on bathing twice in the same day, but the lady did have a point: she was still wearing her smelly, blood-spattered clothes, so she couldn't be perfectly clean anymore. Besides, if she behaved now, she'd have some leverage when they tried to mess with her hair. "Fine," she mumbled, and sat down to pull her boots off.

"There you are," Judith said from across the room. The Krityan was standing on a stepstool, arms out at her sides; two women buzzed around her, doing very personal things with a loop of measuring tape. "Is Captain Schwann all right?" Judith asked over their heads.

"He's not dead yet." The mage reached up to adjust her goggles, panicking for the half-second it took to realize she'd left them in his room. "Uh...Estelle healed him, so that's all we can do for now." She smoothed the top of her head and wondered why she hadn't noticed they were missing—probably because her scalp was still tingling where he'd touched it.

The women were looking at her curiously, even Estelle. Rita scowled, hurried past them, and pulled the screen around to block the corner off.

"That's so strange. Sir Schwann is too young to be having heart problems," an older voice said as Rita untied her scarf and, rather than unwrap the whole length, wriggled it down past her hips.

"Not necessarily. The last few years have been very difficult for him," Estelle pointed out, to a chorus of murmured agreement.

That was the biggest understatement Rita had heard today, but it did prove that their cover story had worked: at Raven's direction, Estelle's book had enumerated all the wrongs Schwann committed under Alexei – including kidnapping a princess – right up till the First Captain realized the error of his ways at the Shrine of Baction. Against his wishes, she had also included an abridged version of how he'd saved them from the shrine's collapse, implying that the physical toll of his heroism might have had permanent effects.

"We're very fortunate to have him back," said a young maid, trying to sound profound. Someone snickered at her. "What? It's true," the speaker protested. "The Empire needs strong leadership."

"Tall, dark, and handsome leadership," her friend added.

Rita winced at their shrieks of laughter. "Idiots," she muttered. Hoping to take advantage of the distraction, she peeled off the rest of her clothes, dunked a washcloth in the tepid water, and began swiping herself down as fast as she could. This wasn't fair; she hadn't become a mage to wind up sleep-deprived and butt-naked in a room full of stupid strangers who wouldn't shut up about a stupid man twice her stupid age!

At least the washcloth was one of those thick, super-soft ones she'd never bothered to buy for herself. It was huge, too, almost as wide as her shoulders. She stretched it out across her front, wondering if one of Schwann's hands could cover both her—

Both _nothing_. Time to stop thinking of that, and...get busy soaping herself while they discussed the only man she'd ever seen up close and shirtless? That didn't sound much better.

Someone asked a question toward the back of the room, out of earshot. Estelle answered, and from the few words she caught, Rita gathered they were talking about the fight this morning. The mage tried to tune them out, but it was difficult to do so when her name started cropping up.

"Miss?" One of the pack suddenly emerged as a silhouette against the screen. Rita snatched up a towel, just in case. "Um...did you and Sir Schwann really—"

"No!" They heard a splash, and the thunk of soap hitting the floor.

The maid was startled, but not smart enough to be deterred. "But, miss, I only wanted to ask if—"

Estelle averted bloodshed by clapping her hands and calling, "All right, everyone! We've got some work to do! Over here, please!"

The mage breathed a sigh of relief as the women reluctantly obeyed, letting Estelle divide them into two groups. One was sent to fetch some more dresses in Rita's size from the adjoining closets, while the others began sorting through the jewelry boxes.

"Wait till you see some of these," the princess told Rita, who was almost done toweling off. "My mother had such a wonderful collection." She sighed. "I don't think she ever got to wear most of it."

Rita was only mildly interested, but it was Estelle, so she played along. "Why not?"

"Her father wouldn't let her," said the elderly maid, who had taken up a managerial stance by the dressing table. "Lord Heurassein didn't have any other family, so he tried to keep her a child as long as he could." She clucked her disapproval. "Lady Aeslin didn't marry till she was twenty-two, when she met Lord Sidos. Even then, she almost had to elope."

"That sucks." Rita examined the stack of underthings at the end of the bench. They were all the correct size, so her only problem was picking the least ridiculously frilly ones. Once that was done, she just had to take care of her notes, and then she'd be out of excuses to stay back here.

The old lady didn't notice her distraction, or didn't care. "That's not the worst part, either," she continued. "They hadn't been married two years before her husband was killed in a riding accident, right before the Lady Estellise was born. Then her father died of pneumonia a few weeks after, and she caught it herself when she tried to heal him." Sigh. "We were just thankful the baby was all right."

Rita stared at the page she'd torn out of her notebook, folding it very slowly. "Oh. Wow." It felt grossly inadequate, as far as responses went, but what else was she supposed to say? "Sorry to hear that," she mumbled, sliding the folded page into her still-too-fancy waistband and pulling her shift down over it.

Estelle didn't respond. Before the silence could get awkward, though, one of the jewelry-sorting maids suddenly snapped her fingers. "That's right!" she exclaimed. "Therese, where are those portraits we saved when the old storehouse caught fire? I think Lady Aeslin's is in there somewhere."

"Really?" Estelle's hands flew to her mouth as Rita peeked around the screen. "Oh, I'd love to see it! I have a miniature of her, but...do you think you could find it again?"

In a flurry of excitement, three maids were let outside in search of the alleged portrait. The mage pulled the screen back into place, heart racing, as the noise level went up, and up, and up some more. This was ridiculous; there were still fourteen or fifteen people in here!

Judith rapped on the screen's wooden siding. "Are you almost done, Rita?"

"Here's the deal," Rita said, very loudly, and everyone shut up at once. "I'll cooperate with you guys as far as dresses and makeup, or whatever, and I won't try to leave before we're done." She swallowed. "But I'm not coming out until I have some breathing room—three, maybe four people at a time is plenty. And no more pushing me around like earlier, or someone's getting hurt! Got it?"

The ensuing silence was so resentful that she knew she'd hit a nerve. When Estelle asked a few direct questions, they had to admit that most of them didn't absolutely have to be there, at least not yet: Judith had already decided on an evening gown, had her measurements double-checked, and sent the gown for alterations, while Estelle's dress – a work in progress for over two weeks – only needed a few last touches. Until those were ready and Rita had picked her clothes out, there wasn't much for the maids to do but gossip.

Over their protests, all but four of the women were directed to go down to the workshop and offer their assistance, or go help find the paintings, or something, and come back in a bit for final preparations. Once the room was clear, Rita crept out from behind the screen, allowing someone to slip by and collect her dirty clothes. "Watch out for the stuff in the pockets," the mage instructed. "And don't let any of my notes get wet, all right?"

"Of course, miss." The servant bobbed at her.

Rita watched her hurry out, and smiled in grim satisfaction. However thoroughly her colleagues searched her stuff – or paid maids and laundresses to search – they wouldn't find anything, as all her notes were with her, or on Repede. A little wasted effort would do them good, the nosy old bastards.

"Come see what we've got over here, Rita," Estelle called, holding up a long black sleeve for the mage's inspection. "I don't think it's a good color for tonight, but how do you like this style? Most of these are in fashion again, or they could be, with a little work."

"Not too bad," said Rita, who didn't care for the prospect of looking at every single dress in every damn row. "But if it was up to me, I'd just wear my robe, with the tassels and everything."

An older lady was helping Judith brush out her hair. "That's why it's not up to you, dear," she said over her shoulder, and the others chuckled.

"Let us know if you see anything you like," another woman advised Rita, ignoring the girl's scowl. "You're all up at the head table, so I'm afraid you can't wear something as light as you would for a ball."

Rita sighed. "Fine, but try not to go nuts. I don't want to look like a kid dressing up in her mom's clothes."

"I still like your hair," Estelle said to her, "but it won't work for tonight. Could we try something else?"

Before Rita could object, the woman said, "I've got an idea, Lady Estellise. Why don't we braid it along here instead?" She indicated Rita's hairline, running back toward the nape of her neck. "A few pearls or some ribbon—that'd be nice, don't you think?"

Estelle and another maid came up for a better look. Feeling trapped again, Rita excused herself and scurried away to the far end of the room, where she could duck between the rows. Maybe, she thought desperately, if she stayed back here long enough, they'd forget about her hair until it was too late to mess with it.

They had the sense to leave her alone, and she calmed down as Judith helped her go through the racks. Several dresses looked plausible, but one in particular caught her eye, and held it; she lifted it down, took it to the full-length mirror propped against the wall, and tucked the hanger under her chin. "I like this one," she told Estelle's reflection.

"It is pretty," her friend said doubtfully, but Rita was already removing the hanger and working her arms up under the skirt. With some effort, the princess helped pull it down over her head, smoothing out the bodice with little tugs at the waist.

"That looks great on you," Judith said behind her.

Rita scratched her bare collarbone, unable to hide a smirk. This time, she didn't mind being stared at. "It does, doesn't it?"

A maid coughed. "Yes, it does. But, miss, it's a bit...boudoir, don't you think?"

It was, and that was exactly what Rita liked about it: the thin, creamy-gold-ish, lightly embroidered material fit like a glove, covering enough to leave finer details to the imagination, but in such a way that the viewer was not at all discouraged from using his imagination.

On instinct, Rita tried a twirl to the left, enjoying the flap of long, soft skirt on her calves. She grinned. "I like this one," she said again, with an air of finality.

"But that isn't appropriate for the banquet," Estelle protested. "It's more like a nightgown than a formal dress. Why don't you keep looking? You can wear that one some other time."

Rita ran her palms down the skirt to check for loose threads. As she bent over, she glanced at the mirror, and was startled to see a hint of the beginnings of cleavage down her front. "Nope. This is it," she replied, even more firmly.

Estelle sighed. Judith looked at her, then back to Rita, arms folded at her waist. "I see what you both mean. What if you wore something over it, Rita?"

The mage wasn't sure about that, but the other women seemed to like the idea. When Estelle suggested an "overdress" – which at least sounded self-explanatory – someone produced a little sketchpad and began drawing with such enthusiasm that, after a minute, Rita couldn't even tell the difference between the designs they were showing her. "Just give me something comfortable that'll still look okay," she said, exasperated.

"What color?" was the next question.

That one, she could handle. "Red. Dark red, but not too dark," Rita clarified.

"All right, then. We know your measurements, so we'll get right to work." The woman gestured for her to remove the dress. "We should have something for you to try on soon."

It seemed stupid to make something new when they had so much other stuff lying around, but Rita was so sick of fashion that, once again, she elected to keep her mouth shut.

Once the dress was sent on its way, only two maids remained. They stayed in the background, sorting various articles on the bed, while Judith and Rita rifled through the jewelry boxes. Estelle was showing them her great-grandmother's sapphire ring when the door burst open—or tried to, as the woman on the other side had her hands full.

When they let her in, she cried, "We found it!" and thumped a sooty old box down in triumph.

The three girls hung back as the maids knelt to pry the lid off. "Why were these all just sitting around in storage and not hanging up somewhere?" Rita wondered aloud.

"Some were put away because they're of minor nobles, and someone higher-ranked took the wall space," the old woman explained. She began easing portraits out of the box, making a careful stack on the bed. "Sometimes, like with Lady Aeslin, they just didn't want to keep it. Or maybe someone died and didn't have any family or friends left to..." She trailed off as she lifted a canvas slightly bigger than the others. "Ah ha! Here it is, Lady Estellise!"

They leaned in as the princess held the picture up to the lamplight. Aeslin had been painted in a sunny courtyard, framed by parallel lines of shrubbery. Except for a smaller build, higher cheekbones, and dark brown eyes, she looked a lot like Estelle—even the way she'd folded her hands in front was familiar.

She didn't seem particularly happy, though, and Rita couldn't blame her. The only jewelry in evidence was a pair of diamond earrings; her dress was gray and high-necked, hiding most of her figure, and her blonde hair had been pulled back into a lumpy knot. No wonder she hadn't kept the portrait.

"She's beautiful," Judith said quietly, and Estelle wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

"Yeah," Rita agreed, kicking herself yet again. Why did her first reaction to everything always have to be negative?

"Thank you." Estelle gave them a watery smile, then walked over to prop the painting up on a table. "This has been such a wonderful birthday already," she said, wiping her eyes again. "I don't know what I'd do without all of you."

"Don't cry, Lady Estellise," the box-bearing maid chastised her. "It'll make your eyes puffy."

Rita wanted to hit her, but Estelle laughed. "You're right," she said, "I can't show up to my own party looking like this." She went to the vanity and selected a jar from one of the stacks. "Do either of you want some lotion?" she asked. "This one's good for smoothing your skin out before you get your makeup done."

"You could use something for your eyes, Miss Rita," noted the old lady. "You look as if you didn't sleep at all."

"And whose fault was that?" Rita got up and climbed onto the bed, out of lotion range. Searching for a distraction, she picked up the nearest painting, of a nervous-looking young man. "How old are these things, anyway?"

The middle-oldest servant gave her a wry smile, letting her know she wasn't off the hook. "Each one should be dated, miss. Most are from the past twenty or thirty years."

"I can't believe people could afford to get these made and then just stick 'em in a corner somewhere. What a waste." The portrait was dated seven years before Rita was born. Was he even alive now, after the war? She handed it to Judith, who studied him for a moment, then crouched to put the canvas back in the box.

"I should have mine painted sometime soon," mused Estelle, turning from the mirror. The maids caught her eye, and the princess strolled over, jar in hand. "Here, try some. It smells great," she said, offering it to each of her friends.

Judith shook her head, but Rita took the hint, dipped a finger, and smeared the stuff across her cheeks, rubbing it into the skin beneath her eyes. And speaking of rubbing it in— "You should get one done whenever you get married, with you and your husband," the mage said innocently. "That'd make sense."

"We'll see," the princess mumbled. "I think it's...um... We'll see." She clapped the jar shut and hurried away.

There was a delicate, smirking silence. "I don't know the last time we had a True Knight's portrait in the gallery," a maid remarked, and Estelle made such an interesting noise that they all burst out laughing.

The princess sat down in a huff. "I can't believe you've heard of that already!" She raked a handful of jewels across the lacquered surface. "I mean, really!"

The old lady chuckled. "What if I told you most of us approve, Lady Estellise?"

Rita bit her tongue and handed another picture down, this one of a woman with flame-red hair.

"That's wonderful," said the princess, still a bit sullen. "I just thought Ioder would be more discreet. He knows how fast news spreads around here."

"Exactly," the old maid retorted. "Lord Ioder wants to see what everyone thinks of it. _I_ think it's a wonderful idea, having a True Knight in the royal family."

"Really? Are they that rare?" Rita picked up another canvas. It was a bit newer – dated only two years before she was born – and showed a pretty girl of fifteen or sixteen.

"Yes, they are. It's not every day you find a man outside the Imperial Knights with that much talent and moral fiber. Then the Emperor personally has to grant the title, so it doesn't happen very often." They paused as Estelle dumped another box of earrings onto the dressing table. "It never hurts to be young and handsome, either," the maid added, to more laughter.

"Moral fiber, my ass," Rita muttered, but her heart wasn't in it, because something about the girl's portrait was bugging her. The artist had painted her sitting, not standing, head tilted a little...brown hair, brown eyes, friendly, confident smile—what had Schwann said about confidence? The mage frowned at the girl's hair, which was long enough to trail down her shoulder and into her lap, near the small bouquet she was holding.

Waiting to be handed the next picture, Judith rose to her knees and found Rita staring at it with unnerving intensity. "What is it, Rita?"

"Who is this?" the mage demanded of no one in particular, thrusting the portrait in the maids' general direction.

"Let's see..." The nearest one squinted at the painting. "I think that's Miss Woodhouse." She checked the date. "It might be. What do you think, Rose?"

"That's a Woodhouse, all right," said the now-named old lady. "They always had their pictures done when they turned sixteen. You could trace the whole family tree with a walk down that hall." Stiff-kneed, she got up to take the portrait from Rita. "I thought this would've been reused already. Painters love these old canvases for—"

Rita pulled it back. "What was her first name?" The servants paused to think about it, and she couldn't resist adding, "It was Casey, right?"

Judith's eyes widened. Afire with curiosity, Estelle hopped up and ran across the room to join her friends in examining the portrait. Sure enough, the girl's bouquet was made up of small-bloomed fire lilies.

"Casey? Yes, that was her name," Rose agreed. Rita's triumph faded a bit when the woman continued, "There's no one left in the family, not after the war, so I'm surprised this hasn't been painted over." Her voice sharpened. "How did you know, miss?"

Rita didn't answer. She barely heard the question; all she could think of was how she was going to hide the portrait till tomorrow—no, that was the tournament, so her first opportunity would be the day after tomorrow. If she could just keep it a surprise long enough to—

"It was probably her hair." Judith pointed to the telltale weave over Casey's temple, and Rita jerked to attention as they crowded round to compare her with the painting. Hers wasn't as neatly or tightly done, but the similarity was unmistakable.

"That makes sense," Estelle said, heedless of Rita's cease-and-desist glare. "I mean, they were such an important military family, and a lot of women going into the Knights used that braid. But how did you...?" To Rita's dismay, Estelle thought about it for a second, and brightened. "That's right! We already talked about it, the last time Sir Schwann did your hair like this!"

"Estelle!" Rita protested.

"Oh!" The princess clapped a hand to her mouth. "Sorry!"

Too late. "Sir Schwann did _what_?" Rose and her cohorts looked as if...well, as if someone had just told them that the First Captain of the Imperial Knights was in the habit of braiding a teenage girl's hair. "You can't be serious," the middle one said weakly.

"It's true," Judith replied. Rita's hand twitched, but the Krityan went on, "I know it sounds weird, but after all the help she's given him, it's only natural he'd be willing to do her a favor like that."

They didn't look convinced; Rose was openly skeptical. "Has he done anything else to you, miss?" The question was almost an accusation. "Anything he shouldn't?"

Rita could only stare for a moment, shocked. "No. No! Hell no!" She made herself put the painting down gently, aware that her temper was at its boiling point. "Where the hell did that come from?" she snapped. "Do you really think he's that stupid? If he ever touches me, I'll rip his arm off and beat him to death with it!" It even felt true, as long as she could channel her hormonal frustration right back into anger.

"Captain Schwann has made some terrible mistakes," Estelle said firmly, "but I really don't think Rita is in any danger from him."

Judith nodded her agreement. "Is there any particular reason you're asking?"

"I know you can take care of yourself, miss." Rose exhaled. "But..."

"But nothing!" The mage dug her heels into the edge of the mattress, too angry to remember that the servants were going to repeat every word she said. "I know he's a lying, sneaky old jerk, and he's probably done all sorts of horrible things I never even heard about. And guess what? I don't care! I've already agreed to help him, and I'm not backing out based on your stupid assumptions!"

Rose's expression had smoothed out into bland, servantly disinterest. "I'm sure you know best, miss. Beg pardon if I offended you."

Rita wasn't buying it. "I appreciate your concern, and I'll be sure to let you know if I ever have to kill him," she snapped. "Till then, you can mind your own damn business!"

"Of course." Rose closed the subject by picking up one of the perfume bottles Rita had received last night. "Now, miss, which of these are you going to wear to the banquet? Lord Ioder gave you quite a selection, and they're all very good."

She wasn't allowed to set old people on fire, so Rita could only glare, and say, "I like this one better," picking another bottle at random.

They were arguing the merits of each scent – with Judith watching Rita, and Estelle watching Judith, wondering what the Krityan was thinking – when there was another knock, and the door sprang open. "Good news, ladies! Here's something for each of you to try on," someone sang out. To Rita's dismay, people began pouring back into the room, carrying even _more_ dresses and shoes and boxes of crap. Their break was over, such as it was.

Maybe she was going about with the wrong attitude, she thought, allowing the maids to form a cautious ring around her. Maybe she should just go with it, like she had before the dance, and wind up looking even better this time. Hell, maybe getting her ears pierced would be worth it. And maybe she'd have actually have fun at dinner, eating great food and meeting new people in a safe environment.

Or maybe she'd be smarter next time, and hide somewhere they wouldn't find her.

* * *

A/N: Another split-off chapter, with 6 more pages pasted into a fresh Word doc for later. See, I kinda got in a car wreck last week (not kidding. Am okay, but car is not), two days before the new semester, and things are really continuing to not go great around here. Am not enthused at having to post so many "WAH WHY ME" notes in a row, but. Wah. Will try to get 16 up soon, as it contains all the fun stuff that was supposed to go at the end of this one, before I was like "okay, 14 pages, this is silly" and snipped the damn thing.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Hey, doods. Here's what I wrote before I got hitched in October, and a lot more besides. :D It was very important to me that I finish out this day/night of the story, which is why I lumped the whole thing into one chapter. (Am _**seriously**_ considering the merits of just writing shorter ones more often from now on.)

Anyway. Before we get started: if you haven't seen the costume associated with Yuri's True Knight title, please feel free to check it out on Google Images. I hate to commit authorly suckitude like that, but I was wasting an awful lot of time trying to come up with an accurate description, and eventually decided to err on the side of "Hell with it." Besides, there's some awesome fanart of him in that uniform. :3

Those of you who don't do profile-checking will also note that I made up Estelle's mom's appearance, but not Casey's (well, nothing but the braid). You can see her in Japanese fanart and at least one drama CD cover. Now, back to business...

**XVI.**

Judith thought she'd be the first one down, but when she entered the banquet hall's heavily guarded waiting room, Schwann was already seated in a back corner. "Good afternoon, Captain," she greeted him, extending a hand as he rose to his feet.

"Good afternoon to you." Schwann took her hand and bent courteously over it. "Tell me, how early did you get up this morning, to look this beautiful already?"

The Krityan laughed, waving the compliment away with her lace fan. "And how late did you stay up, thinking of lines like that?"

"All night, I assure you." The Captain's tone was gallant enough, but his expression was strained; she could feel his hand trembling as he released her. "Would you care to join me for a few minutes?" he added.

"Gladly. Thank you." Judith settled into a nearby chaise lounge, leaned back, and crossed her legs, enjoying her effect on the footmen stationed throughout the room. She was perfectly situated to see and be seen, right across from the entrance.

Schwann gave her another appreciative glance as he resumed his seat. "Yuri was here a moment ago," he informed her. "I believe he'll be back soon, once he's sure his guests from the lower quarter will be allowed into the banquet."

"That's probably a good idea, as long as he doesn't hurt anyone in the process." Judith eased a finger under her necklace. The slinky, low-cut, dark plum evening gown had been her own choice, so she had let the maids pick out her collar of moonstones on silver vines. It looked fantastic with the matching hairpins, but she hadn't realized it would get so itchy so fast.

"I doubt he'll cause any trouble. In fact..." He paused as three servants converged on them, wielding trays of sparkly beverage in tiny glasses. She accepted one as Schwann shook his head and waved them away. "I have it on good authority," the Captain continued in an undertone, "that he spent over an hour this morning in discussion with the Commandant and His Majesty, after which he needed directions to the laundry." His eyebrows twitched. "Forgive my saying so, but I don't think your appearance will be the only one under discussion this evening."

"Really." The Krityan tasted the sparkly stuff, and made a face: it was all bubble, no flavor. "So he's already taking your advice?"

Schwann nodded slowly. "I see the news has gotten around. Good." He shifted his weight on the hard seat. "It's not just a matter of wearing the uniform—he's on his best behavior tonight. It'll help if he does well in the finals tomorrow, but it's much more important to prove that he can handle himself at state functions."

Judith nodded back. "We'll find out soon enough."

A few quiet minutes passed; he seemed content to sit in silence, storing up some measure of peace before the festivities began. Judith wasn't about to interrupt, no matter how many questions she had for him.

As if to underscore the point, he suddenly grimaced, brushing at his chest. "Is everything all right?" she asked.

"No, but thank you," he replied.

She studied him as she fanned herself. Schwann looked much the same as always – lean, handsome, impassive – but the fine lines around his mouth and eyes had deepened, and he was more restless than she'd ever seen him. Noting his frequent glances at the door, Judith wondered if all the strain he was feeling could be chalked up to anxiety over Yuri's behavior, or if her theory was correct—probably both.

A cluster of mages entered, arguing amongst themselves in fierce whispers. Schwann and Judith watched them, aware that the conversation was pointed in their direction. "Good job on the letter, by the way," she murmured, and fanned harder. With only a dozen people in it, the room was already growing warm. "I haven't seen it, but Rita told me all about it last night. She was really impressed."

Schwann chuckled. "Thank you. Whether it'll work remains to be seen." As she was about to reply, he sat up, hands on knees. "Speaking of which, Judith, there's something I'd like to ask you. If I may."

The Krityan frowned in puzzlement. "Why not? Now's a good time, while there's no one around."

"Even so..." The Captain shifted his weight yet again. "When you spoke to Rita last night, did she mention anything else she might have read in the letter, besides my advice to Yuri?"

Judith raised an eyebrow: he'd gone straight to the point _she_ wanted to ask about. That was convenient, not to mention promising. "Sort of. She said Yuri made her skip a part where you'd written something about her and crossed it out," Judith explained. "Apparently, he told her it was there, but not what it said." His relief was so palpable that she added, "I don't mean to pry, but...what exactly did you write?" Rita had guessed it was something insulting, but Judith didn't think so. She was pretty sure Rita didn't, either.

Schwann stared into space for a moment. "I was wondering about that," he remarked, as if he hadn't heard the question. "It seemed strange that she never brought it up."

"Brought what up?" The mages were still arguing, the servants out of earshot; there wouldn't be a better time to ask, so Judith persisted, "What did you write?"

He didn't move, except to tap his chair arm with one finger. "I knew I should have started another draft. If I hadn't been so tired..." Sigh. "All I did was ask Yuri to make sure Rita didn't blame herself if anything happened to me. I scratched through it when I realized that you all would have done so anyway, and he might have taken the request as an insult."

As little as she wanted to upset him, Judith couldn't leave it there. "Sorry," she said, as kindly as possible, "but I don't believe you."

"Of course you don't," he answered, with his first hint of rancor. "You're jumping to conclusions, like you did when you told Rita that I was eyeballing her on the _Fiertia_."

She smiled. "Well, you were."

"All the more reason not to tell her so." Schwann drummed on the chair arm, caught himself, and sat back. "Luckily, she gave me a chance to apologize before she killed me."

"Hm. That was nice of her."

Her tone didn't escape him. "Think whatever you like, Judith, but I don't intend to give Rita the wrong idea, now or ever. I would appreciate it if you didn't, either."

"I won't," she lied. "Sorry for bothering you."

Schwann accepted the apology with a nod, and that was that—for now.

More people were trickling into the room. Several came over to greet the Captain and admire Judith, but few of them were comfortable enough in Schwann's presence to stay for very long. That was fine with Judith, who had gotten enough close-range attention at the dance to last for the rest of her life, and most of someone else's.

"I know Estellise needs plenty of time to dress," Schwann said during a lull, "but I can't imagine Rita letting them keep her for this long."

The Krityan closed her fan with a snap of the wrist. Then she ruined the effect by opening it again to cool herself off below the neck, where some inconvenient sweat was gathering. "She actually likes dressing up, believe it or not. Being packed in and bossed around, _that_ upsets her." Judith scratched under the necklace again. "Right before I left, a girl came up behind her and tried to take her hair down without asking first. Rita scared her so badly that she wouldn't come back in the room."

The Captain snorted. "That sounds like Rita." He rested his head on one fist. "I don't expect her to learn perfect manners overnight, but I do wish she'd stop terrorizing everyone she meets."

Judith debated whether to come to Rita's defense by pointing out the concessions she had made after that: the crash course in etiquette the older servants were giving her; their eventual success in redoing her hair; her reluctant agreement to let them "com_plete_ly mutilate" her ears, as long as Estelle healed them afterward; eye makeup in general...

No, she'd better not push the subject too hard. Besides, the less prepared Schwann was, the more fun his reaction would be when Rita came in.

"Hey! Judith!"

They turned to see Karol weaving through the crowd, emerging right between two startled noblemen. There were greetings and compliments all around; whoever had picked out the boy's suit of gold-stitched brown linen did an excellent job, Judith thought—and forgot it as soon as Yuri stepped out from behind him. "Judy. Captain Schwann," he said with a slight bow.

"Wow," Judith said frankly. She wasn't surprised that so many people were turning to stare. Not only did the uniform represent a near-mythical rank, it was displayed to full effect on Yuri's tall, athletic frame; more importantly, he was standing at ease in it, with none of his grouchy self-consciousness from the dance. One hand rested on his sword hilt, and it took Judith a second to realize he wasn't carrying it by the straps, but hung on a loop at his right hip. For some reason, that detail impressed her more than anything else.

Fully aware of their audience, Yuri turned to the rest of the room and – to their further astonishment – bent his head again, one arm folded behind him in mocking formality. If it wasn't for his huge smirk as he turned back to his friends, they might not have recognized him.

Schwann nodded approval. "You're supposed to move your left foot back when you do that," he advised the younger man. "I doubt anyone noticed, but they will next time."

Yuri shrugged. "That's what I get for not practicing. I didn't want to waste too much of Ioder's time, so he just ran me through the basics."

"Cool!" was Karol's only contribution.

"Did your friends all get in okay?" Judith asked.

"Yep. It was the funniest thing—Flynn got there right when I did, and the guards suddenly didn't think the invitations were fake anymore. Everyone's seated now." The True Knight gave Judith a closer once-over, and whistled under his breath. "Nice. You really outdid yourself."

She inclined her head. "You're not so bad, either. I like the ponytail."

Yuri hated the ponytail, and his expression was so eloquent that Judith had to laugh.

Karol was scanning the room, back turned to them. "Karol?" Judith reached over and tapped his arm with her fan. "Is Nan going to be here?" It occurred to her that he didn't have any visible battle scars; Estelle hadn't had time to heal him since last night, so Nan must have gone easier than they'd thought.

"Nah, she's doing security," he mumbled. "Listen, I'm gonna go talk to Harry. I'll see you guys later." Just like that, the boy was off, disappearing back into the crowd.

"Sir Schwann," said a deep voice behind Yuri. Startled, he stepped aside to face a pair of high-ranked mages, both already sweating in their elaborate robes. "We'd like to speak with you before dinner begins. Alone, if you please," one rumbled.

It didn't sound at all like a request. Before Yuri or Judith could say anything, Schwann raised a hand. "I've been expecting this. If you two would please excuse us..."

"Of course." Judith accepted a hand up from Yuri, and because she could, she held on to his arm as they moved a few feet away. They were still getting quite a few stares, she noticed, but no one wanted to be the first to approach; the nobles were well aware that Yuri detested them, while the guild leaders weren't sure what to make of one of their own in an Imperial uniform.

"So," Yuri said.

"Mm-hm." The Krityan removed her hand, untangled the fan's cord from around her wrist, and flicked it open, tilting her head back toward the corner.

Yuri stayed quiet, glancing between the mages, Schwann, and Judith. "I can hear most of it," she murmured, and he smiled acknowledgement.

A servant came by with another tray of bubbly stuff, which Yuri had the sense to decline. When the footman had gone, Judith said behind the fan, "Those are the ones who were pushing the hardest to study him after the joust. ...Ooh."

"What?" he asked, craning his neck around.

"Shh!" The Krityan made him turn away, and pointed at a tapestry over the double doors leading to the banquet hall. "Don't be so obvious. Pretend we're talking about something else, like how ugly that thing is."

Yuri stared up at it with one hand on his hip, feigning interest as hard as he could. "Hm. Yeah, that's pretty bad. I don't even want to know how much it costs." Pause. "Okay, what are they saying now?"

"They're asking what Rita's been doing to him. He said he doesn't know, and they don't need to, either... I know what we can talk about!" The fan came back up to rest against her cheek, almost touching her lips. "You can tell me if I'm wrong for thinking he's got a crush on Rita."

"Nope," Yuri said promptly. "He's got a crush on Rita."

Judith nodded, well satisfied. "I thought so. What did the letter say about her, anyway?"

"The part he crossed out? Most of it was about a chunk of Gald he left her in his will. If it turned out she couldn't fix him, he wanted me to apologize for him, and explain where it came from." Yuri had never been big on gossip, but this was the perfect opportunity to pay Rita back for all the crap – and help – she'd given him. "The whole time Raven was in Dahngrest, Schwann's salary kept piling up in the treasury and accruing interest. He's never touched it, so even after Ioder took some out for charity, there's about—"

She held up the fan as a mage's voice rose behind them. "He's lying through his teeth, and they can't prove it. It's driving them crazy," the Krityan said cheerfully. "So, he knew she didn't want money, and he was going to give it to her anyway?"

"Yeah." No wonder Raven had been so crabby when the subject came up last night. "He said it was repayment for the pills she threw out, and he thanked her again. Whatever that meant."

Judith shrugged. "Beats me. Rita didn't say anything about it."

Damn. It wasn't that important, but he was still curious. "Anyway," said Yuri, after a moment, "he scratched through the rest of it a lot harder, but I'm pretty sure it was about her. He said something about a red rose, and—"

Judith waved him silent again. Over her head, Yuri saw that Schwann's expression had hardened, and the mages were growing more and more animated with frustration.

Her lips curved. "Sorry about that. They were talking about how unstable Rita's always been," said Judith. "Now they're trying to convince him that if he doesn't let them intervene, she's going to get impatient and take him apart in his sleep."

Yuri snorted. "Brilliant. How's that going over?"

"It isn't."

He let her listen for another minute, resolving to get the letter back so she could read it herself, free of interruptions. Maybe she could pick out more of the scratched-out stuff than he had; she'd also know whether Rita could be told any of it without endangering Schwann. "You think she likes him, too?" he asked, more skeptical on that point.

"She's attracted to him," Judith said absently, employing the fan at top speed, "and it doesn't hurt that he's got a blastia for her to play with. But it's not just that. You've seen how comfortable she is around him—remember where she was sleeping when we came in last night?"

"Yeah." Yuri frowned at the wall, as if he'd find an explanation written in the black-veined marble, then shook his head. "Man. This whole thing's bizarre."

"Not at all," the Krityan disagreed. Meeting his incredulous gaze, she shrugged again. "I've been thinking about it a lot, and it does make sense, if you...uh oh."

He didn't need to ask: the words were indistinct, but Schwann was speaking so harshly that people nearby were turning to see what the matter was. One of the mages tried to interrupt, and the First Captain snapped right back at him, ending with a dismissive flick of his hand.

A long, motionless moment; then the mages turned and stalked away, leaving Schwann to compose himself again.

"What'd he say?" Yuri whispered.

Judith was a little worried, but mostly amused. "He said he appreciated their concern, but he's not letting any more vultures pick at his carcass. Then he told them the only service they could do him would be to get the hell out of his sight."

"Really? He said 'hell' and everything?" Yuri was also torn between concern and delight. "Score one for the old man."

The Krityan indicated the corner, careful not to look directly at Schwann. "Should we go talk to him?"

"Let's give him a minute to cool off," Yuri suggested, and she nodded, following him a few steps away. "In the meantime," he continued, careful to keep his voice down, "you can explain why those two together wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's ever happened."

"Well..." Judith ran her finger over the fan's half-folded pleats. "I'm not sure they will, actually, at least not for a while," she said. "He's still an idiot around girls, and she's still not comfortable enough with people in general. Even if they do like each other, that doesn't mean they're looking to get into a relationship."

"Sounds about right," said Yuri. Considering how Rita had grown up – so starved for affection that she'd had to make her own family out of magic rocks – and how Schwann had spent ten of the last eleven years, Yuri couldn't really blame them. "So what makes you think that'll change anytime soon?"

"Why not? They've already changed a lot since we first met," the Krityan pointed out. "He's never had friends who know him so well, and she's never had friends, period." She leaned back against a pillar, hairpins clicking on the polished marble. "I know he's not in a hurry to open up to anyone—"

"Literally," Yuri put in.

That made her smile. "Right. We've all seen it a hundred times: he hits on every single girl he meets, but then he won't follow through with anyone who's actually interested, no matter how cute she is." She adjusted her collar, rubbing the little dents it had made in her skin. "I can't imagine how frustrating that must be."

Yuri shifted away from her and looked down at his sword. The uniform wasn't designed to be worn with a belt, so they'd hung the scabbard from the rivet at his right hip; its weight was already getting uncomfortable. "I think I see where you're going with this," he said aloud. "It's the first time he's had a thing for someone who already knows who he is, and what he's got under there." He stuck his thumb at his own chest, drawing some odd looks from their neighbors. "It's not like he needs to hide it from her, just the opposite."

"Right again." The Krityan tapped her cheek with the fan. "He's twice her age, of course, but..."

"But he's not dead yet. And now that they're spending all this time together, he doesn't have a chance to get her off his mind. She's always in his personal space, they're both worried he might die any minute..." Yuri trailed off, so absorbed that he didn't notice Judith perk up and wave to someone standing in the doorway. "Yeah, you're right. I guess I could see something happening. Maybe."

Judith made a noncommittal sound. That was fine with him; the conversation was starting to feel a little weird, not to mention hypocritical. "Anyway..." The True Knight grimaced, closed his eyes, and reached up to scratch his head, unaware of how loud he was speaking into a sudden hush: "He shouldn't feel too bad about it. Knowing them, if anything does happen, it won't be _his_ idea."

"What won't be whose idea?" Rita asked at Yuri's elbow.

"Wha—" He whirled around, nearly whacking her on the forehead. "When did you get here?"

"Right now." The girl was standing – posing, really – in a little pocket of empty space. Behind her, an aisle to the door was closing up as the people who'd been forced aside moved back into place. "Well?" she demanded, hands on hips.

Yuri was too bemused to be sure whether she wanted an answer to her question, or was fishing for compliments—probably the latter, as her entrance had drawn almost everyone's attention but his. He could see why: she wasn't the most stunningly beautiful girl in the room, but she wasn't the worst, either, not by a long shot. She knew it, too, and stood there like she owned the place.

"See, we told you all the hassle would be worth it," Judith said proudly.

Rita didn't think it would be polite to agree that she looked absolutely fucking fantastic, so she just said, "Yeah, I guess," and turned to Yuri, missing Judith's glance at the corner. "Nice hair," the mage remarked. "Did you want it like that, or was it too hard to braid it again?"

He was studying her in half-serious puzzlement. "Hm. Interesting. You don't look like Rita, but you sure sound like her. Let's see..." Yuri leaned down to touch one of her earrings, only to have his hand swatted away. "Ah ha! Mystery solved. Hi, Rita."

"Hi, Yuri." Smiling, the girl shook out her fan and brought it up in one fluid motion, screening their audience from the rude gesture she was making with the other hand. "Good to see you like this." She was feeling magnanimous; whatever he'd been talking about earlier could wait till she was at liberty to wring the truth out of him.

"You, too." He could have said a lot more – like how well the lightish red on her lips went with her dress, or the fact that she smelled great, not at all like their genius mage, who routinely went weeks between showers – but he didn't feel up to it. Discussing the possibility of her doing something with someone at some future date was one thing; seeing her expertly made up and dressed like this was another, much weirder thing.

"Is Estelle almost ready?" Judith asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"Almost," said Rita. "There were a lot of little things she still needed done, so she made me come down first." Though his poker face was up, she knew Yuri well enough to know that she was being checked out, and glanced down to make sure everything was in order.

At least she was wearing a higher neckline over the cream-colored gown. He was so tall that he would've been able to look straight down that one.

"Wow, Rita!" Karol had wriggled back out of the crowd to greet her. "You look awesome!" He gave her a double thumbs-up, the little dork. "Have you talked to Schwann yet?" the boy added. "I know he was pretty upset earlier, but he'll probably want to—"

"What? Upset about _what_, exactly?" Rita wheeled on Yuri. "Did you let something happen while I was gone?" she demanded, further irritated by the heavy movements of her earrings. Having them put in had hurt enough, and now they kept swinging all over the place whenever she turned her head.

"We didn't let anything happen," said Judith, mild as ever. "He asked us to leave him alone so he could talk to some of the mages, and then he sent them away. That's all."

Angry as she was, Rita had spent so much time on mental preparation that she didn't hit anyone, or even raise her voice. "We'll see about that," she muttered instead. "Where is he, anyway?"

Three arms pointed to the nearest corner. A burly guild member was in the way, but when he stepped aside, she could see the Captain sitting with his head on one hand, eyes closed. He hadn't even noticed her yet. "I'll be right back," Rita said to her friends, and moved off without waiting for an answer.

It was only a few yards, but it felt a lot longer, especially with so many people watching. Part of her was aware that she really shouldn't reinforce any stupid rumors by going straight over to Schwann; she really did have to check on him, though, and if she didn't do it right now, she was going to lose her nerve. Besides, who were _they_ to dictate what she could and couldn't do?

So. Deep breath. Shoulders back, chin up, a few steps, and—

* * *

Schwann was dozing, trying not to think of anything at all, when a puff of soft-scented air hit the side of his face. "Are you all right, Sir Schwann?" a girl asked.

He sat up straight. "I'm afraid not, miss," he said, blinking as politely as possible at the red blur standing over him. However sick he felt, he hadn't been raised to slouch around when a lady was talking. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to ignore you."

The blur moved back a little. "Geez. You really are out of it." Her shoe went taptaptap. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Her voice was so familiar that he couldn't place it. The Captain squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again.

A small hand was hovering a few inches from his nose, thumb folded. A red sleeve trailed over the wrist, weighted by gold trim; beyond that, he couldn't make out any details. "Four," he said dutifully.

"Very good." The hand disappeared. "Are you feeling feverish? Any nausea?"

"No. Thank you." Schwann rubbed his forehead. "It's not that kind of illness. I just need a little rest."

To his surprise, she laughed. "Okay, next question. Do you even know who I am?"

He almost did. Schwann squinted at her till most of the blur sharpened into a red satin dress, cut sharply down the middle to show a pale underskirt. Lamplight picked out a fine-linked chain on the curve of her waist, with one end trailing down her hip. That patch of red and white in her hand was a painted fan; looking up, he had to pause at the neck and jaw, whose delicate lines were accentuated by long pearl-and-ruby earrings. Not only that, she had absolutely flawless skin, and lips like a—

Her smirk widened as their eyes met. His expression had gone blank. "...Rita?"

The girl bobbed her head, fan fluttering. "Schwann." It was harder than ever not to gloat. He hadn't even recognized her! Granted, he was really out of it, but still! "What do you think?" She patted one of the braids along her temples. The stain they'd brushed into her hair had already dried, leaving rich reddish highlights. "Check this out—" Rita turned around and pointed to a fire lily – a real one this time – tucked into the gold loop securing the end of her braids. "It wasn't my idea, but I guess it turned out okay."

Schwann nodded, expression relaxing into pleasant neutrality as he shoved most of his feelings aside. Now that she was actually here, he could stop worrying and start making some quick calculations: after his behavior at the dance, and the joust, he shouldn't fake indifference—their onlookers would see right through it, not to mention how much he'd hurt her feelings. Better be kind, but distant, and ignore his impulse to grab her and pull her into his lap for a closer sniff of whatever scent she was wearing. That would definitely give the wrong impression.

She waited a moment, then turned back and regarded him warily, not sure how to interpret his silence. "It's not too much, is it?" she pressed him.

"No, not at all." The Captain laced his fingers together to keep from reaching out and taking her hand. Etiquette would have allowed it, briefly, but he didn't trust himself with any contact right now. "I'm afraid I don't know what to say," Schwann admitted, giving her a slight but genuine smile. "I can't think of anything that would do you justice."

Rita laughed again. She couldn't help it. "Don't give me that. You didn't have any trouble coming up with stuff while we were dancing."

"That was much easier," he agreed.

When he failed to elaborate, Rita found she didn't have the courage to pursue that line of inquiry any further. "All right, fine," she said, "but you owe me." She gave his mailed foot a light tap, not nearly hard enough to be a kick. "Think of something while we're at dinner."

Schwann made a conciliatory gesture. "As you wish."

Rita couldn't remember the last time she'd been this pleased with herself. She was dimly aware that it was stupid of her, considering she'd already invented and discovered and perfected so many things of such infinitely greater use than flirting with broken-down old m—

Well. Not flirting, not as such. She'd never do that. Just...testing her appearance on someone she already knew. And talking. Talking didn't count. It wasn't like she—

Oh, who the hell was she was kidding? The whole time she was getting dressed, this was all she'd been thinking about. She'd only tolerated the eyeshadow and goopy black crap on her lashes because she was afraid Schwann would think she looked weird without them; the stupidly heavy earrings had also been chosen with him in mind.

And now that she'd seen his reaction, not only was she not sorry she'd put up with all that pain and inconvenience, she was actually trying to think of more things to do next time! What in hell was wrong with her?

No, no, she shouldn't blame herself; she hadn't been right in the head. He'd given her so many compliments and warnings that it had become more important to live up to expectations than to keep strange women from poking her eyeballs with sticks, or jabbing holes in her flesh. Rita would never have come up with that on her own.

...But, if she hadn't been dumb enough to listen to him in the first place...

I wasn't being dumb! she snapped inwardly, too tired to put up with her own waffling. There's nothing dumb about taking advice from someone who knows what he's talking about, and if my hormones are acting up, too, who cares? That's what they're supposed to do! I'm just wearing stuff I thought he might like, not having sex with him. So there!

Her brain had nothing to say to that, but she was so keyed up that it really didn't have to.

As they inspected each other, Schwann gradually realized neither of them had spoken for several seconds. It didn't feel awkward at all, until he noticed how many people were still watching; he nodded again, as if in response to something she'd said, and tried to think of the nicest way possible to send her back to their friends, who were also keeping an eye on them.

At a similar loss, Rita tugged at her earrings and smoothed the front of her dress. Its high, squared-off neckline did a nice job of framing her collarbone and necklace, Schwann thought, and the necklace was...very familiar, now that he was looking right at it.

Some of Rita's elation faded as the Captain's stare became more fixed, brows drawing together. "What?"

"That's an interesting piece," he said evenly, tapping the hollow of his throat. "A little old-fashioned, though."

Her cheeks reddened beneath their faint dusting of powder: that was exactly what the maids had said, along with some objections to putting silver with a red-and-gold dress. "You're the one who said it was okay to borrow jewelry from friends, remember?" She toyed with his mother's three-pointed charm. "Don't tell me you wanted to wear it."

Schwann wasn't amused. "Of course not. But I thought you'd left it in Capua Torim."

"No, I grabbed it on my way out." Rita put one hand on her hip, flipping her long sleeve out of the way. "I'm not keeping it forever or anything. I just liked how it went with the rest of this stuff." She scowled at him, then found it much easier to look down and toy with her fan. "I didn't think you'd mind, okay? I can take it off if it really bugs you that much."

"Don't," he answered, reaching up to forestall her, and she took a quick step back. If his feelings had been anywhere within reach, they would have been hurt a little. "I'm not angry with you, just surprised to see it," the Captain explained. "The next time you want to borrow it, you need to ask more directly."

Who did he think he was? Her dad? "No worries. There won't be a next time." In the interest of maintaining her self-control, she ducked her head at him, mumbled, "'Scuse me," and turned on her heel, walking away as fast as her shoes would allow.

Schwann wasn't sure what had just happened, except that he'd gotten his wish: he could sit back with an expression of mild resignation, as if he was shrugging off some silly teenaged thing she'd said, and let people draw their own conclusions. Rita hadn't blown up at him, so it couldn't have been that bad, they'd think; no one would suspect how well she was holding her temper.

At least she'd passed her first test. But he couldn't take much pleasure in it; in fact, they probably both would have felt better if she'd just gone ahead and slugged him.

"Rita?" Judith came over to meet her. "What's wrong?" Her voice dropped. "Did he say something to you?" It was an honest question: she hadn't been able to hear most of their conversation.

"No. I'm fine." The mage's words were almost too quiet to hear, though, matching her demeanor.

Her friends exchanged bewildered glances. With great effort, Judith swallowed her questions and said, "Well, we've been talking to Harry." The Krityan indicated two guild members who'd joined them. "Karol brought him over as soon as you left. He wanted our permission to make an announcement at the banquet." She smiled. "You'll like it, I promise."

Rita shrugged. Knowing it was the best she could do, the Krityan nodded pleasantly and turned back to the group, ready to distract them with small talk.

Movement at the entrance caught their attention. A herald thumped his staff twice on the floor, then started rattling off a string of titles, several dozen words long, which boiled down to the fact that Estelle and Ioder had arrived. Before Judith could stop her, Rita picked up her skirts and began shoving her way through the crowd.

Yuri edged in front of Judith, considering his own route to the door. "This is it," he murmured, and winked at her. "Catch you later."

"Later," she said, letting some of her wistfulness show. Yuri just smiled, gave her a light pat on the shoulder, and slipped into the crush of people.

Rita emerged in time to see the guards uncrossing their halberds, and Ioder and Estelle walking in to a round of applause. Ioder might be decked out in ruffles and gold braid and a fancy circlet, but Estelle looked _royal_, the mage thought in proprietary delight_._ Her gown was a masterwork of cloth-of-gold, leaving her shoulders bare in a very graceful, grown-up fashion; a gold filigree headpiece supported two ropes of seed pearls over each ear, with more pearls securing a cameo at her throat, a crystal thingy wound into her hair, diamonds on her wrists—in short, the perfect image of an Imperial princess. Someone from the photographers' guild had better be there to get some pictures, or else Rita was going to break some legs.

There was a moment of respectful silence...or would have been, if Yuri hadn't suddenly stepped out, bowed, and said, "Evening, Your Majesties," loud and clear.

The room drew its collective breath. Though he was doing his best impression of easygoing courtesy, Rita saw him swallow hard as he glanced up at Estelle.

Ioder nodded, unfazed. "Good evening, Yuri Lowell."

Yuri straightened, catching Estelle's free hand on his way up. "Happy birthday, Estelle," he murmured, and before she could respond, he raised her hand and pressed his lips to the back of her fingers. Their eyes locked; Rita didn't think to count, but they must have stayed like that for at least five seconds before Estelle remembered to thank him and reclaim her hand.

The noise got even louder as he stepped back, giving the future Emperor and stunned princess a respectful nod. Rita couldn't hear what Ioder said to him, or Yuri's response, but that didn't matter: the damage was done, just as intended.

Adding to the general confusion, the heirs' arrival was the signal to begin seating, so the footmen at the double doors were already herding people into some semblance of an ordered line. Less important guests were at the front, going in first to fill the two end tables, while Estelle and Ioder would be the very last, sitting smack dab in the middle of the dais.

As people around her started pairing up, Rita was further irritated to realize no one had told her exactly where she was supposed to go, or with whom. The maids had explained that formal dinners started with gentlemen escorting the ladies to their seats, in the apparent belief that ladies were too stupid to find their own chairs; she was sure she'd be placed near the end of the line, along with her friends, but that didn't tell her who'd walk out with her.

Would they let her pick a guy she already knew, or assign someone? Maybe she could get Schwann to—

No way. Not him. Who else, then?

Estelle was smiling and chatting with people as if nothing had happened, though her face was still flushed. "Rita! Hello," the princess said over the din, cutting off the complaints of several nobles Rita had elbowed or foot-stomped aside. "You look wonderful!"

"You, too!" Rita shoved closer. "Happy birthday," she added, catching sight of Yuri just a few feet away. He wasn't intruding in any way, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

"Thank you," said Estelle, and that was as far as they got before she had to turn and greet another cluster of well-wishers.

Ioder hadn't gone far, either; several members of his personal guard had slipped into the room, and he was staying where they could watch the people coming up to speak with him. Rita suddenly had an idea: "Is Ioder taking you in to dinner?" she asked, much louder than necessary, and caught Yuri's eye.

"Yes, he is." Estelle nodded to the prince, who had looked over on hearing his name. "Why do you ask?"

Right on cue, Yuri reappeared in front of Ioder. "Actually, Highness," he said, "would you mind if I took her instead?"

"You can't be serious!" A Council member had finally spoken up, backed by several of his outraged peers. "Your Majesty, this is ridiculous. You couldn't possibly allow this—"

"Miss Mordio." Schwann's voice startled them all, especially Rita, who almost backed right into Estelle. He was supposed to be sitting around by himself, not sneaking up on people! "Please excuse the interruption, Prince Ioder, Lady Estellise—I wanted to apologize for upsetting you," the Captain told Rita, more quietly. "I never intended to diminish your enjoyment of the evening, especially when you did nothing wrong." He held a hand out, palm up. "Will you forgive me?"

Rita didn't even think about it: something loosened in her chest, and her mouth went right ahead with, "Yeah. Of course" as her hand came up to rest on his gloved fingers.

To her surprise, they closed around hers. "Thank you." The Captain turned to Ioder, giving Rita a chance to catch her breath. "If the Lady Estellise already has an escort, Your Majesty," Schwann said briskly, "I don't believe Miss Mordio is spoken for."

"Oh?" The prince regarded Rita thoughtfully. "It would be my pleasure." Before the girl could say anything, Ioder had stepped up and accepted her hand from Schwann. Within seconds, Judith was ensconced beside the First Captain – disappointing several men who'd been hovering nearby – and Yuri was leaning down to whisper to Estelle, just like that.

Rita could only blink stupidly at Ioder, struggling to catch up under a sudden, creeping haze of exhaustion. For a moment, realizing she'd literally been handed off, she didn't know whether to be more annoyed, embarrassed, or disappointed.

But she had to admit Schwann had done the smartest thing, rumor-wise, in not taking her himself; besides, it was too late now for the nobles to insist on anyone switching partners. The double doors had just been unbarred and pushed open, the line almost completely formed.

Everyone fell quiet, like it or not. Rita felt dizzy as sounds and smells and light from the banquet hall poured into the room; the line straightened as those in front began making their way into the hall, hurried along by the footmen.

Ioder steered Rita into the spot before Estelle, so that the princess and Yuri would go last. "This ought to be good," Rita muttered to the prince, who merely smiled.

A minute later, Leblanc appeared in the doorway, scrupulously sober. The tables had filled up with enough people that only the really important ones were left; now Leblanc announced each pair before they walked out, giving the rest of the banquet hall time to gawk as they took their seats.

The crowd's interest rose sharply as Kaufman emerged, escorted by the head mage. Karol followed with a young noblewoman on his arm; Schwann and Judith got an even louder reaction. Then it was Harry and an older lady, taking the few chairs remaining near the middle of the table.

Now that it was their turn, Rita was almost glad to be so out of it: she was hardly nervous at all when her name was called with Ioder's. As they walked out onto the dais, she looked out over the packed tables with only mild interest, reserving most of her concentration for the momentous task of staying awake. Luckily, as she'd find out later, the audience was so impressed at the sight of the famous Rita Mordio walking alongside Prince Ioder that they mistook her sleepiness for an air of gravitas.

It was darker in here than she'd anticipated, but at least it was fairly cool. Shock did get through when Ioder pulled out the heavy, uncushioned seat to his immediate left, facing the rest of the great hall; she reflexively bobbed at him in thanks, marveling at being placed so high at the table. Of course, she was practically a member of Brave Vesperia, and she'd saved the First Captain's life, but come on!

That was her first mistake of the evening, before they were even seated. The prince didn't react, but the other nobles and even a few guild leaders at the table muttered or snickered to each other as she sat down. Shit! Rita thought, coming wide awake in panic. She should've done a full-blown curtsy, not that piffley little improvisation she'd come up with at the dance! Why had she even practiced the damn thing if she wasn't going to use it in front of zillions of people?

Leblanc did a double take as the last pair stepped up to the doorway. To his credit, he didn't say anything, but shook it off, drawing a deep breath for the last announcement: "Presenting Master Yuri Lowell, and Her Imperial Majesty, Princess Estellise Sidos Heurassein!"

The audience was strangely quiet. The princess and True Knight came out into view, and Rita felt as if the entire hall was holding its breath. Someone booed, somewhere toward the middle of the place, with a few more voices joining in—

At the very back corner of the hall, a small, shabby group started an answering round of applause. It grew steadily louder, with whistles, cheering, and thumping on tables, spreading from the lower quarter's inhabitants to the commoner guild members around them, out through the rest of the crowd, till the whole place was roaring with approval. Whether they meant Estelle, or Yuri, or both, Rita wasn't sure; at the moment, it really didn't matter.

* * *

As soon as Yuri and Estelle were seated – right next to each other, no less – the speeches began. Rita would have dozed right off if Harry hadn't been so mercifully brief. "In honor of the Prince's coronation this winter," the youth said, rising from his seat opposite Ioder, "and to celebrate Brave Vesperia's induction as a master guild—"

There was a lot of murmuring at that. Most people had expected it after the collapse of Ruins' Gate, but news was news.

"We of the Union will return your hospitality for a week of celebration in Dahngrest, three days after the New Year." And he sat back down, leaving everyone with the prospect of another huge-scale party before this one was even over. Rita wondered if she'd be more excited about it later, when she was awake.

She did jerk to attention when Schwann pulled himself to his feet, directly across from her, and turned to face the hall. "On behalf of their Imperial Majesties and Commandant Flynn Scifo, I bid you all welcome, and thank you for being here." Nod. "Before we begin, may I take this opportunity to salute Brave Vesperia, who ascended the roof of the world and destroyed the Adephagos at its source." Nod. "I give thanks for the hope of our Empire's heirs, and the promise of Dahngrest's leaders." Nod. "And most of all, I am grateful to have lived to see this day." To Rita's superlative embarrassment, he turned and nodded directly at her. "Thank you."

She probably nodded back. Or maybe not; she could never be sure afterwards. Schwann was already sitting back down, so she obviously wasn't required to say anything in reply.

One of the most senior Council members got up and spent several minutes saying, in essence, that another party sounded like a great idea, and everyone should continue to get along.

It was long and dull enough that Estelle took the chance to catch Schwann's eye and pretend to pass him something, so discreetly that no one noticed the flicker of golden light. That included the young mage, who'd stopped paying attention early on, and didn't even notice when the man finished.

When he did, the noise level rose again, and Rita looked up as a couple of smaller doors at each end of the hall were being propped open. A stream of servants was coming at them from both directions, carrying plates, covered dishes, and pitchers; to everyone's relief, that was the end of speechifying, and the beginning of dinner.

The maids had given Rita some idea of what to do, for which she was now profoundly grateful. As wine was poured and the first appetizers of tiny-thing-on-stick set out, the mage waited for Estelle and Ioder to be served first, then took a stick of what turned out to be pear slices. Not bad, she thought, and put the stick back into a little dish made for that sole purpose.

Keeping a dish around for used sticks was ridiculous, but then, so was the rest of the table. Every single place setting had three empty glasses of varying shapes and sizes, five different forks and knives, two spoons, a couple of plates, a rolled-up napkin, a butter dish, and a few other random implements. When the soup came out, Rita saw the prince and princess unroll their napkins and pick up the bigger of their spoons, so she did, too, hoping to copy her way through the rest of the meal.

Ioder glanced up and saw her watching. "It's all a bit much, I know," he said, taking a small mouthful of whatever the soup was. "When my grandfather was young," the prince continued, "they used to start in the morning and go through twenty full courses, lasting all the way till midnight. We won't keep you here quite that long, I promise."

"I'd appreciate that," she answered. Not much was going on in the way of conversation around them, so everyone was listening. Great. "Thanks for the perfume," Rita said, grasping at the first polite thing that came to mind. "You've got pretty good taste."

Ioder smiled. "Thank you. If you'd like a bigger bottle of any particular scent, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks, but I can get it myself." Rita kept her voice as light as she could, aware that she'd make a better impression sounding fake than rude. It wasn't the greatest feeling in the world. "I really like the one I've got on right now—it's vanilla, right?"

"Yes, it is." Ioder frowned slightly. "With respect, Miss Mordio, that one happens to be fairly expensive. Are you sure I can't get it for you?"

"I'm sure. Thank you."

The prince nodded, and resumed eating.

Judith whispered something to Kaufman, whose reply made the Krityan's eyes widen.

Next to Rita, the head mage had overheard the women's exchange. "Four thousand Gald an ounce," he repeated, and gave Rita a thin-lipped smile. "Two months' stipend for a bit of toilet water? Our Miss Mordio _is_ growing up."

"What do you care, you—" No! Crap! She had to be nice, or at least not overtly rude. Think, think, think— "You don't have to worry about me," Rita said, much brighter. "I made six thousand last month off my hand-size bombs, and I've got a bunch more of the bigger ones ready to go now. They sell pretty well, considering mine always go off when they're supposed to." Pause. "Unlike yours." Smile.

Their neighbors murmured to each other as the head mage's eyes narrowed. Anti-monster devices like the Vesperia One had become invaluable since the loss of barrier blastia, and while mages were all tasked with creating a certain number of them per month, they were allowed to make more as a private sideline. Lately, there had been some embarrassment over rushed or shoddy devices from Zaphias' mages, which tended to fizzle out too quickly, or not work at all; Fortune's Market was now offering higher rates to mages with better track records, and had threatened to stop buying from the others.

"Very true," said Kaufman, raising her wineglass to Rita. "That reminds me, you need to come by headquarters. It looks like some of our suppliers are trying to cut corners on those firestarters you designed, and we'd like an expert opinion before we send them back."

Rita nodded, and feigned great interest in her soup, letting the conversation run on without her. A Council member tried to start an argument with Kaufman over exorbitant pricing in general, and she sidetracked him with a detailed explanation of the difficulties in maintaining vanilla orchids. The vines only grew in one remote section of Dahngrest's plateau, and yields had been poor due to greater-than-usual aer fluctuations; the pods had to be picked at just the right growth, every single day; the workers required protection from monsters attracted by the smell—

That launched another debate on harvests in general, and the distribution of manpower needed to get it all in safely, seguing into the nobles' favorite complaint: the guilds charged too much for timber, which was needed for firewood in lieu of heat blastia, and were never willing to exchange enough of it for Imperial crops.

The guilds' reply was the same as always: that cutting down trees was dangerous and time-consuming at best, as the forests around Dahngrest and Aurnion housed far more monsters than lived on the plains around Zaphias and Halure; even with Ba'ul's help, transporting heavy loads south was slow and expensive. They were also reluctant to destroy too many trees before they'd agreed on a sustainable long-term plan.

For her part, Rita was more preoccupied with the logistic downsides of her appearance. She couldn't lean back without squashing the flower in her hair, and she couldn't scratch her cheeks or eyelids without getting makeup on her fingers; there was lipstick on the rim of her water glass, her dress layers were too hot, and her chair was about as comfortable as a randomly spaced bed of needles. Did she really have to sit through five more hours of this?

Schwann glanced at the quieter half of the table beyond Estelle and Yuri, then looked back at Rita. He thought of the buoyant, grinning confidence with which she'd greeted him half an hour ago, and gestured to a servant for more wine. Lots more.

"Miss Mordio," an older gentleman said, leaning forward to speak from several places away, and interrupting the Council leader mid-harangue. "Pardon my curiosity, but it is remarkable for a young lady of your age to be so prolific. Were either of your parents mages?"

"I don't know," said Rita, too tired to make anything up. She shifted her weight on the hard seat as the soup bowls were cleared and platters of fish brought out. "I never knew my dad, and my mom died when I was little."

"I am sorry to hear that," the lord said kindly. He was in his late thirties or early forties, with a few flecks of gray in his dark hair. Not bad-looking, she thought; if he'd been at the dance, she hadn't seen him. "I understand you've been at work since you were very young," he continued. "That must have been difficult. But you seem to have made the best of it." His head tilted. "In fact, I've heard you're still capable of using magic without a blastia. Is that even possible?"

Rita examined the fish, then laid the outermost of her knives and forks across the plate. A servant swooped by and removed the dish. "Yeah, I can do a few things. Call it a trade secret," she said, trying to ignore how the head mage was eyeballing her. "We can use the spirits' power for bigger spells. But we can't rely on them to do everything blastia used to," the girl added, in case anyone started whining about that again, "or the spirits might cut us off entirely."

The lord raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?" He took a sip of wine, politely incredulous. "There can't be much danger of that. I haven't seen any magic performed for quite some time now, and frankly, I don't expect to."

"Oh, really?" On impulse – surely one demonstration couldn't hurt – Rita turned to face forward. "Sir Schwann!"

The First Captain raised his head, as if he hadn't been listening to every word. "Yes?"

"Put out that candle and hand it over." She pointed to the one nearest him. "Please."

Frowning, Schwann picked up the candlestick, pinched the flame out, and waved the smoke away. "Here you are," he murmured, and gave her a warning look as he handed it over.

Rita didn't notice. She took the candle, making sure they were all watching, then raised the wick to her lips.

"Eep!" went Estelle as her friend blew out a tiny lick of flame, relighting the candle.

"That was awesome!" Karol elbowed Harry in the ribs. "See, I told you she can still blow stuff up!"

"Thanks," Rita said, handing the candle back to Schwann, who was just as startled as everyone else. She took a long, shaky drink of water, reminding herself to start the spark farther away next time; the theory had been sound, but this was the first time she'd actually tried it. She was lucky not to have singed her stupid lips off.

The dark-haired noble was shaking his head in admiration. "Forgive me for doubting you, Miss Mordio." His eyes drifted to the head mage, who nodded faintly.

Schwann helped himself to more wine.

"No wonder she's raking it in," a guild leader remarked, further down on her right. "If _I_ could breathe fire, I probably wouldn't have much competition, either!" His friends laughed, and when Rita glared at him, the man leaned around to ask directly, "Who's your guardian, anyway? He's gotta be rich by now."

"I don't have one," the girl snapped. "I've been legally independent since I was twelve." The next course was apparently a heap of caramelized vegetable matter, which didn't do much for her mood.

"That speaks very well for your maturity." The lord inclined his head again. "You're sixteen or seventeen, yes?"

Rita nodded, putting her next set of utensils on her fresh plate. It was also whisked away. "I'll be seventeen in a couple months."

"Ah," he said, almost to himself, and then resumed eating, as if the conversation had ended to his satisfaction.

"What?" Rita couldn't help asking. He was being pretty obvious, but he was nice enough, and things seemed to be running along similar lines to her talks with Schwann. If this guy wanted to flatter her in front of everyone, she wasn't going to stop him.

The man took a large bite, chewed, and swallowed. "It's truly unfortunate that you've been left to your own devices for so long." He looked up and gave her a gentle smile. "But one never knows. Some good may come of it after all."

That sounded...interesting. "Yeah?" she prompted.

"Mmm." The lord's smile widened. "For example, I've never met a fatherless girl who didn't prefer older men."

The words were bad enough, once she worked out the double negative. But he wouldn't stop staring, and his tone – still very mild, quiet, almost caressing – felt like a tongue in her ear.

Worse, though, was the realization that there was nothing she could say or do, not with Estelle two seats away. Rita's mouth had fallen open, but she had to close it and keep it shut, before something horrible came out.

Schwann had warned her about this, she remembered, stomach roiling—but why did that make her feel like it was _her_ fault?

Worst of all, several people in earshot were openly amused. Rita gripped her skirts and looked down at the tablecloth where her plate had been, face burning.

She didn't see Ioder's frown, or the restraining hand Estelle put on Yuri's arm.

Schwann's expression hadn't changed, so his sudden chuckle startled everyone. "How very commendable, Lord Faulk," the Captain said, in a voice light and cold as snowfall. "So few men in this day and age are brave enough to admit that their best chance of sexual contact is with a child too young to know better."

Silence, except for a mutter of "Ha!" from Karol. Even the main hall seemed to have fallen quiet, though they were too far away to overhear.

Lord Faulk's smile remained in place. His gaze wandered from Schwann to the top of Rita's head and back. Then he nodded slowly. "Of course," he said apologetically. "How very rude of me. I am sorry, Sir Schwann, for encroaching on your territory."

"Ah. Not only a coward and degenerate, but a liar. An example to us all." Schwann still hadn't raised his voice; he was almost expressionless, blue-green eyes fixed on the other man. "Is there anything else you'd like to confess?"

The lord's eye twitched. "Far be it for me to argue with our esteemed First Captain," he said loudly, turning to the rest of the table. "There's no use refuting the wisdom of a man who's had so very much to drink."

Several people spoke at once. Yuri's baritone cut through the noise: "Now that's classy. I thought nobles were supposed to have manners, not pick at each other like a bunch of teenagers."

"A fine thing to hear from a murderer," snarled Faulk, dropping his pretense of calm with startling swiftness.

Several people gasped. Estelle flushed nearly as dark as Rita, whose thoughts were going in too many directions to count; she didn't care who said what to whom anymore, just as long as they left her alone.

Yuri blinked, then smiled, very slowly. "Okay. I'll play along," he said. "_Do_ go on, please. Something about a murderer?"

"You know very well what he's talking about!" Another Councilman pounded the table with his fist. No one paid any attention to the meat course as the servants served the roast and greens, laying the platters down with very deliberate care, the better to hear everything. "The murder of Lord Ragou and the disappearance of Captain Cumore have been attributed directly to you, by highly reliable sources! Are we supposed to accept a True Knight with such a stain on his name?"

"A Free Paladin. Grandfather told me that's what they used to be called, to distinguish them from the regular Knights," Harry said, so apropos that the conversation came to a momentary halt.

"Really?" Yuri appeared to think it over, and thumped the table in approval. "I like that! Mind if I go by 'Paladin' instead, Estelle? Ioder?"

"I've heard that variant before. It's all right by me," the prince said.

"It's not all right by any of us!" snapped Lord Faulk. "Your Majesty, take care what you do with your position, when you have yet to even be—"

"As serious as these accusations are," Ioder went on, still speaking to Yuri, "they have no weight with me, not after all you've done. Unless and until formal charges are brought against you, I think we can consider the matter dropped." The prince cut a dainty bite of roast, stared at it, and set it down. "But...on second thought, it might be better to clear the air and settle this for good, before anything of further importance happens. What do you all think?"

"Very wise of you, Your Highness," a Council member said, to murmurs of agreement.

"I think trying him on either count would be interesting." That was Harry again. "The Council might want to hear about the motivation behind these crimes."

"I don't think they'd care about that," Yuri said coolly, "only that it happened."

Harry shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Photographs of the monsters and human corpses in Ragou's basement, certified as accurate by the new magistrate himself? Sworn testimony from hundreds of law-abiding Imperial citizens who suffered under his rule? People care a lot about that kind of thing, and I hope that includes the Council."

The nobles were looking at each other, waiting for someone to say something.

"That's right," Judith chimed in, catching on instantly. "We could also calculate how many people died when Cumore forced them out into the desert to find the 'monster' for him. There've been plenty of rumors, but if we were to present all the facts, everyone would really understand what happened, and what kind of Imperial leaders they lost. Wouldn't that be healthy?"

Yuri didn't know whether to be thank them or punch them in the face. Had Harry and Ioder worked out what to say about the murders in advance, or were they really playing off each other that well?

Either way, that had knocked the wind out of their sails. He'd have to decide how to handle it head-on when the time came; for now, it was time to eat.

* * *

Rita had calmed down enough to start on her slice of roast. The head mage turned his head to watch her. "I suppose there is something to be said for teamwork," he mused.

She gave him a look that told him where to stick his teamwork.

"I'd like a truce, for the moment," the head mage protested, and nearly whispered, "As it happens, I have information that might help Sir Schwann." He held up a hand as she started to say something rude. "Just hear me out. I ask for nothing in return, except perhaps that you be more reasonable the next time we offer to assist you with such a huge project."

"Bullshit. Why would you give me something for nothing?" Rita demanded.

"Because we're much less interested in studying a corpse than a live specimen. If he passed away before we could get a better look at him, you would quite possibly cremate him to keep us from studying the remains. We want to avoid that outcome."

She bristled, but had to admit he was probably right. "I don't care what you've got. You're not getting your hands on him," the girl warned.

"Regardless, if you can keep him alive, we'd like to assist you to that end." The man paused to belch. "Pardon. It so happens that my nephew was an ambitious young man right at the end of the war—"

"And why do I care?" Rita snapped.

"Because he worked directly under Alexei, whose research you _almost_ have in its entirety."

She set her utensils down. "Okay, I'm listening."

The man nodded. "Before the boy was killed in a supposed laboratory accident, he visited his father one last time. My brother said he was so paranoid that he spent all night lying under the kitchen table, writing complete nonsense about puzzle plates and see-through green tubes."

Rita couldn't hide her excitement. There was nothing about the blastia shell or the color of its innards in anything else from Alexei's research; the likelihood of his story being a lie was decreasing rapidly.

"When the workshop burned down, all his notes were destroyed. Alexei had agents go through his friends and family's houses for copies of his research, but no one thought to look under the table before it was given to me. I've got the entire thing transcribed, as far as that mess could be reproduced," he concluded triumphantly.

The girl's hands were shaking again, in a different sort of agitation. "Where is it now? Do you have it on you?"

The head mage regarded her with amusement and suspicion in turn, and raised his voice to a normal level. "Do you play chess, Miss Mordio? We should have a game sometime soon. Tomorrow evening?"

She only knew the basic rules, but that was sufficient to go up and get the notes. "Yeah, sure."

"Good." And he went right back to eating.

No one but her friends bothered her through the rest of the course, or most of the next one, a set of light pastries and cheese slices. The conversations had splintered into friendlier debates on the outcome of tomorrow's tournament, or whether Sodia would win and try for Flynn's still-vacant Captaincy; there hadn't been a female Captain as far back as anyone could remember. Yuri started it by admitting that he personally despised her, but didn't think gender should be the sole disqualification in an otherwise fine leader. Most people's opinions ran along similar lines, as she was not particularly likable, but had repeatedly proven her capability.

At Judith's suggestion, a maid brought Rita a bottle of sangria, the first alcoholic drink she'd ever had that did not taste like liquid suffering. Ioder dismissed her jokes about underage drinking, and pardoned her on the spot, whereupon she tried two more glasses of it—for science, of course. So many people were always trying to get drunk, despite its wretched effects, and now she could finally get an idea why anyone would put themselves through that.

Like any good hypothesis, though, it required further experimentation. So far, the blackberry tasted the most scientific; better start there.

By the time dessert was brought out, Rita felt a whole lot better. She'd been aware of Schwann's eye on her from time to time throughout the meal, but they hadn't spoken; that was partly because he had had to moderate several arguments between Yuri and his fellow diners, including a couple of tipsy, belligerent guild members who didn't like his new uniform. But would it have killed him to say _something_ to her? Maybe he was just being careful again, rumor-wise.

And he was right to do it. Under the cheerful haze of booze and exhaustion, the girl had no problem thinking of Schwann in conjunction with that ever-present feeling down south—it really was like an itch, she thought; all you could think about was applying friction until it went away. Ever since it first started happening, she'd just worked out ways to handle it in private – including the thing Estelle had once found in her drawer – and left it at that.

This wasn't the same thing. Fantasy was all fun and good, because she could put it away as soon as she was done; no one had ever made her think about it this seriously, as someone she'd actually allow to hold her, or touch her, or...damn, there it went again.

"Try some of these, Rita," Estelle said, snapping her out of it as the dessert trays arrived. There were heavy cake slices, lumps of pudding, and rows of honey-drizzled almond slices; Estelle picked up one of the latter with her tiny dessert fork, transferring a half dozen to her plate, and another five to Rita's.

Rita managed to eat one – very nice – before the plate started moving around on her, splitting in two and wobbling before her weary eyes. She closed them, almost dozing off, then recollected herself as the fire lily in her hair was mashed flat against the chair's back.

Not time for sleep yet, she thought, and tried to focus on her dessert. Why did honey have to be so sticky?

Schwann was hugely relieved when some of the drunker guests began excusing themselves and leaving the dais, reeling toward the nearest exit. Technically, they were supposed to leave in pairs, like they'd come in, but he didn't care. He'd had enough excitement for today, and it only took a few people leaving to make everyone else start thinking about it.

Speaking of which...

Rita was much more relaxed than before, thanks in large part to her tiny frame and total inexperience with alcohol. She had a small, goofy smile, and kept making vain attempts to shift the honey-stuck almonds off the edge of her plate—why, he had no idea.

No matter. It was cute, and he was tired enough to watch her without his mind wandering off to the wrong places.

This was as good a time as any to finish his last slice of cheese and make his own solitary exit. The Captain picked up his fork, speared the last bit of food on his plate, and glanced up mid-bite: Rita had lifted the plate and was prying an almond up with her tongue, licking the last bit of honey off and pulling it into her mouth.

"Are you all right?" Judith asked him, startled by his muffled oath.

"Fine," he lied, feeling his lip where he'd stabbed it with the damn fork.

"Rita!" Estelle hissed. The mage glanced up mid-lick to see her friend making frantic slashing motions.

The mage reluctantly obeyed, setting the plate down with one last slice intact. "I'm going to bed now," she announced, proud that she hadn't slurred any of it. "Someone, come help me down the thing." She tried to push her chair back, but it was too heavy to move from a sitting position.

There was only a moment of hesitation. Several gentlemen got to their feet, ready to help—till Schwann finished his drink, pulled himself to his feet, and set off to walk all the way around the table to her seat.

She sat there, feeling a little giddy, but irritated that everyone was watching his progress. When he reached her, Rita helped push the chair out by bracing against the table. "We're both a friggin' mess," she announced, pulling herself up on his proffered arm. "I think I can walk better than you. And what about Ioder?"

"He'll stay till everyone else has left," the Captain answered, pausing to say good night to all their friends and acquaintances and that colossal prick who'd made her want to blow everyone up. At least Schwann's example had dissuaded any further attempts to provoke her; even Yuri had been treated better than expected, though that was probably more because Ragou had dead people in his basement.

They rounded the corner of the table near the steps down to the main hall. "So. How bad did I do?" she mumbled.

Schwann found it easier and safer not to look at her, but no one could hear them, so he could honestly say, "You did fine. Very well, actually."

"Nuh-uh," Rita said, looking gravely back at the people watching them traverse the wide aisle down to the doors leading outside, or to different parts of the castle. He was steering her toward the upper-castle door, where most of the guards were stationed.

"Yes, you did." Schwann looked down at her, shoving his non-Captain feelings into their corner yet again as she looked up at him. "Seriously. I'm proud of you." He slowed them to a halt as they approached the door. "Here we are."

Her fingers dug into his arm. Otherwise, she was motionless, staring straight ahead.

Something in her expression kept him from peeling her hand off. "Rita? What..." Schwann thought for a moment. "Come on. Don't tell me you've never heard that before," he said, tapping the backs of her fingers.

To his sorrow and amazement, she had to swallow before she could reply. "Dunno. Don't think so." Not from anyone who mattered, anyway.

"Well, it's true. We're all proud of you. So there." Schwann couldn't let this go on any longer, not in front of this many people. "Come on," he repeated, softer, and she let him take her hand away for a last bow and not-quite hand-kiss.

Rita stepped back. The tiredness and sangria retreated for a moment, long enough for her to remember something: she moved her foot back, bent her knees, and nearly swept the floor in a slow, deep, perfect curtsy. "Night," the mage said, and the guards barely opened the door in time for her to step through.

* * *

A/N: Yeahhh, we're not doing a this-size ever again. X( And a resounding and heartfelt FFFF YOU to 2011. What a fuck-awful year. Here's to writing something a fourth this length three or four times more often in 2012.

Lastly, I'mma wish a happy birthday to Resmiranda's little boy, who is now a whole entire year old. (LESS THAN THREE, which this site won't recognize)


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